


Chasing Dreams

by katjedi



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Family, Friendship/Love, Game Spoilers, Gen, Introspection, Post-Canon, Post-Epilogues, Seraph Sorey, Steampunk/Solarpunk Glenwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8238674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katjedi/pseuds/katjedi
Summary: Of rediscovery and finding his way through the dark. 
*
He awoke, first, to the memory of a name – “Sorey!” – and then, to the receding echoes of a voice both familiar and unknown to him at the same time. It was a strange name, though how he knew it to be so was even stranger still. After all, it was the first name that had sprung to mind – the first word, in fact – when his senses had slowly, steadily became aware of his surroundings and then of his consciousness, of his own being. And yet as he blinked, once, twice, into the blinding light shining down on him from up above, he knew, in equally strange ways, that the name was his own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Zestiria has whelmed me with emotions since last Nov, so here I am finally sharing my version of post-epilogues. This fic has little to no references to Berseria's canon (since I don't know Berseria's major plot points yet, only a few minor ones). It's mostly based off what we know from Zestiria game/manga-canon with some personal headcanons to fill up the gaps and missing pieces (guess I'll see if Berseria debunks any headcanons here come Jan/Feb 2017).
> 
> **Edited, Feb 2017** : LOL Berseria _didn't_ debunk anything in this fic - if anything, it just confirmed most of these headcanons as canon now, pfft. So uh, if you haven't played/beaten Berseria, spoilers ahead! 
> 
> Many thanks to SBL and Fran for brainstorming ideas and checking stuff for me (and for generally putting up with my incessant tl;dr zestiria keysmashing, oops) Thanks also to Digi for some last-minute grammar checks and correcting typoes ♥ 
> 
> Music inspiration for this scene: [the dragon's breath](https://youtu.be/_cvcdNE8uT8)  
> 

* * *

 

  **~.*.~  
  
**

**i.**

**  
** He awoke, first, to the memory of a name — _"Sorey!"_ —and then, to the receding echoes of a voice both familiar and unknown to him at the same time.

It was a strange name, though how he knew it to be so was even stranger still. After all, it was the first name that had sprung to mind—the first _word_ , in fact—when his senses had slowly, steadily become aware of his surroundings and then of his consciousness, of his own being. And yet as he blinked, once, twice, into the blinding light shining down on him from up above, he knew, in equally strange ways, that the name was his own.

He raised one hand before him, sluggishness deep within his bones as he shifted, stretching his limbs; curling and uncurling his fingers tentatively, feeling the sensations his nails left on his skin each time they brushed against his palms. The dark smudges of his vision gradually coalesced into something he could recognise and name: a canopy of green foliage and earthy-grey rock walls towering in a circle around him; a bright blue sky dotted with wispy clouds; shafts of light that shone through the crack overhead and illuminated the cavern. There was the faint trill of birdsong from somewhere far above, carried over by the breeze that was now wafting gently over him, ruffling his hair and the embroidered cape draped around his shoulders.

_Sun_ , he thought groggily, finally registering the source of the warmth he was bathed in. Carefully he tried to sit up, steadying himself with one hand against the bed of moss and violet wildflowers he’d been resting upon.

“Looks like someone’s finally awake.”

The voice rang out through the muted silence of the cavern. But he felt no real fear at the sudden new presence, only a guarded curiosity. He gazed about the cavern, looking for the person who’d just spoken and yet seeing no one. A soft tug down the front of his cape brought his attention back to the space before him and looking down, he saw a small orange and white normin peering up at him, balanced carefully upon his left knee. It bounced lightly from one foot to another, before leaning forward to fix him with a scrutinizing gaze.

“About time too,” the normin said, folding its arms importantly over its chest. “I thought we would have to wait for yet another century. So, how do you feel, young Shepherd?”

“I-I...” It took him a moment to find his voice, to remember how speaking worked. His throat felt sore, rough like sandpaper; his voice was hoarse from centuries and centuries of slumber. “I think... I’m sorry, I’m not sure,” he faltered again, suddenly feeling disorientated and very lost.

“I was afraid you’d say that. And this just means more work for us!” the normin gave another dismissive huff.

“Come now, Phoenix, you’re being harsh. The little one’s been through much.”

It was a different voice that spoke this time, a deeper baritone that resonated through the cavern—one filled with both immense power and a familiar gentleness. The light before him shimmered, shadows dancing briefly as it fused into the translucent shape of a miniature white dragon, its body no longer than the length of his arm. Its eyes were the green of early spring, its wings tipped in dusty gold and stretched like a kite.

“It’s all right, Sorey,” the white dragon said as it soared toward him, leaving a ghostly trail of shimmering magic circling around him. “You’ve had a long sleep, so things may seem confusing to you right now. Let’s take one step at a time, shall we? This tiny ball of nuisance here is the normin seraph Phoenix.”

Phoenix grumbled softly in acknowledgement but said nothing more.

“And I,” the dragon continued, “I am Maotelus, of the Five Great Lords.”

“I see...” Sorey could only blink, the significance of the name still lost upon him. He searched through the haze that clouded his mind for a whisper, a hint of information that came with the name but did not find any. Maotelus seemed to understand however; he was still gazing at Sorey with kindness and patience in those evergreen eyes and Sorey realised then that though he wore the shape of a seemingly harmless and small creature, he was old—older than the ruins surrounding them, old as Time itself.

It was strange how he had known that too and how Maotelus’ presence reminded him of another... Sorey frowned, visibly distressed as he felt a growing throb in his temples as he tried again to recall something... _someone —_no, it was no good. He could not remember the faces any more than names that held no memory nor made any sense to him, even though somewhere in his heart, he knew that they _should._

“You have my immense gratitude, little one, for everything you’ve done, for both humans and seraphim alike,” Maotelus said, pulling him out of his reverie again.

He wished he had a proper response to that, but he didn’t—so he smiled instead, a sheepish sort of smile, one hand raised to rest a finger against the side of his cheek.

“It’s nothing, really. I’m glad I was able to help.” It was all he could manage.

Still, Maotelus only chortled and beamed at him, eyes warm with equal parts amusement and affection.

_ —just like Gra— _

And suddenly, an almost painfully familiar sensation he hadn't noticed was bubbling up from within him; it blossomed, surging in his chest, emotion mixed with flashes of memory, dredged upwards from the haze—

"Poor gentle Shepherd," Maotelus said, and he felt the dragon curling gently around his shoulders, sadness in his voice. Sorey blinked, aware now of the tears streaming from his eyes, of this dull ache of grief for someone he did not remember and yet did not truly forget.

"It's all right to cry, little one. You have sacrificed much for this world. Weep now that you can; in time, even this pain will surely heal. But for now—” Maotelus drew the young seraph closer into his hold, gently embracing the crying Sorey with his magic.

"—for now, tears will do."

*

He fell into a dreamless sleep, exhausted. The white dragon did not leave him, but only curled himself around the reborn seraph. Watching, listening to the rise and fall of his chest, to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first three chapters were actually posted on tumblr for Sormik Week 2016. I decided to gradually post up the rest here too. Will try my best to update 1-2 chapters weekly. 
> 
> Music inspiration for this chapter: [the mist doors](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14cMCblJGW0&feature=youtu.be)

* * *

 

  **~.*.~**

 

**ii.** ****

 

“I hope you know where you’re going; this labyrinth is a mess and no one’s going to find us if you get us hopelessly lost.”

Sorey chuckled softly, lips quirked into a tiny smile. Phoenix wasn’t one to voice his trepidation aloud, being the proud creature that he was. But he could tell from the way the normin fidgeted while perched upon his shoulders, one paw gripping the hood of his travelling cloak and the other onto the short ponytail he wore at the back of his head. His hair had gradually grown out in the last couple of moons; it was now long enough to skirt around the edges of his jawline. The length hadn’t bothered him much, only when a stray lock or two was caught and tangled in the metal clasps of his ear cuffs, which made him hiss in surprise at the sudden tug. It was only when Sorey’s hair was snagged for the fifth time within the span of their morning that Phoenix decided to take matters into his own tiny hands. The normin refashioned one of the leather bracelets Sorey had picked up earlier, and skilfully secured the young seraph’s hair back in a short ponytail with the band, complete with bronze beads and two bright orange feathers.

“Well, I can’t say I know for sure where we are exactly, but...” Sorey trailed off, pausing in his steps to study a portion of the water-slicked mural that caught his eye. He ran a hand over the small engravings etched into the obsidian rock, feeling the curl and shape of what looked to be a series of familiar pictographs. He pulled out a piece of goatskin parchment from his pack, comparing the hand-written ciphers on it to the ones on the wall before him.

“Looks like some of these inscriptions match the ones on the parchment we found earlier!” Sorey said, green eyes aglow at the challenge of cracking a new puzzle. “If I could take a moment to try to decode them—!”

Phoenix snorted as he hopped down from Sorey’s shoulder to study the wall, clearly unimpressed.  “You taking a moment means we may be stuck here for yet another hundred years. Maotelus asked me to guide you in the ways of seraphim, little one. Not to let you go tumbling down lost in rabbit holes and caves.”

At the normin’s words, Sorey finally pulled his gaze away from the pictographs. He offered an apologetic grin, self-consciousness permeating his features. Phoenix was right – he _did_ have the tendency to get too absorbed whenever they chanced upon something of interest. And while Phoenix didn’t seem to mind these explorations, they _had_ gotten lost more than once whenever Sorey carelessly allowed himself to be side-tracked by every new discovery. Now was not the time to be distracted; he glanced back at the dusty path before him, closing his eyes as he tried to reach forward with his senses, listening to the stillness in the air. He’d insisted on exploring this particular passageway because he’d felt... well, he wasn’t sure what he felt, honestly. It was as if something ( _someone?_ ) was calling out to him, guiding him further into the heart of these ruins.  

“You’re right.” Sorey opened his eyes again. “I can always come back to study this in detail later. Right now, I have to keep going forward.”

Phoenix hummed, fixing him with a quizzical stare. He said nothing more however, giving Sorey a quick nod instead, and started down the path ahead of them.

“Thank you, Phoenix,” Sorey said softly as he fell in step behind the normin. He should have offered a better explanation, he knew. He was excited, of course—ruins had enthralled him since the day he’d awoken in the cavern with Maotelus—but there was more to this passageway besides his need to thoroughly inspect a route. A stronger sense of familiarity, an almost-presence that he felt like he remembered and _should_ know somehow… Yet, whenever he tried to recall the memories skirting around the edges of his mind, all that came to light were merely the bits and pieces.

A fragmented scene or two—

_Again, that young boy with the silver hair and violet eyes, smirking as he waved a feathered white and gold glove at him tauntingly._

Or snatches of conversations from days long gone _—_

_“Sorey, look! The land below has some of the same plants that grow back in Elysia!”_

_“You’re right... —_ _mps’ blessing surrounds and protects..._ _—_ _but_ _I guess the two lands are still connected.”_

_“Yeah, maybe plant life from below has gotten carried by the wind all the way up to Elysia.”_

Sorey felt a sharp, stinging sensation in his right eye; he winced, biting back a noise of pain, raising a hand to his eye. He blinked tentatively several times, before gazing back at his hand and then at the space around him. As abruptly as the pain had started, it had faded and his vision was clear as ever—he could see Phoenix walking several metres ahead of him.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he continued down the path, listening to the soft sound of footsteps. At first he’d dismissed it as his own, but after several moments he realised it was someone else’s—the steps were steadier, the pace unhurried, unlike his own small excited hops and bounce. After a moment’s hesitation, he veered off the path, heading towards the sound of those footsteps instead.

“Hey, where are you going?” Phoenix called after him.

Sorey didn’t reply; he was too busy picking his way down another, smaller passageway. He heard scrambling steps from somewhere behind him, followed by the normin’s low grumbles of _“Baby seraphs and their impeccable magnetism for trouble!”_

He would have apologised again then, but he’d caught sight of a shadowy movement ahead. He quickened his pace, running down the length of the passageway until it widened and led him into a huge room. There was the faint rushing sound of water from all around him; Sorey stared, his eyes wide with wonder at the stone-cut structures and massive columns looming high into the ceiling. And standing in the centre of room, bathed in a circle of light, was a lone figure.

_A human... no, another seraph?_

The figure was staring up at the domed roof above, one hand shielding his face from the sun as he studied the oculus in the roof. His long, lustrous hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, glinting pale-silver in the sunlight, the tips darkening into a radiant teal—much like the brilliant turquoise gemstones Sorey had seen earlier in another part of the ruins.

He moved towards the figure excitedly, ready to call out when abruptly, there was a loud rumbling noise, a great shuddering of the earth. To Sorey’s horror, the ground where the figure stood upon began crumbling apart, giving way to a terrifying drop into the unknown darkness.

Sorey threw himself forward— _Mikleo! —_the second name, the name that had been flitting about constantly in his memories, his dreams, springing to mind.

He reached out over the edge, fingers grabbing securely around the other seraph's arm just in time.

For the next few heartbeats, there was no movement from either of them, only a tense silence that hung in the air between them—almost as if the world around them had paused, watching, listening.

Sorey let out tiny sigh of relief, breaking the silence.

“Talk about a close call, huh,” he said, shifting his weight ever-so-slightly to better balance himself over the edge.

The seraph ( _Mikleo?_ ) he’d just saved lifted his head, his long pale hair trailing out behind him like a splash of silver ink over the velvet darkness of the chasm below them. He was staring at him as though he’d seen a ghost, in what seemed to be a mix of bewilderment, wonder and... and something Sorey couldn’t quite read.

When the seraph met his gaze, Sorey felt a rush of exhilaration, a burst of images flitting through his mind—violet eyes fixing him with an all-knowing gaze; one hand raised to rest elegantly beside a teasing grin; laughter shared underneath a starry sky. 

_— “Mikleo, look at this tree stump!”_ —

He didn't understand why the name ( _these... memories?_ ) came to him here and now; it had only appeared in his dreams of a seraph youth, also silver-haired and dressed in a similar turquoise blue, black and gold.

(Sometimes the name bled into his waking hours where he spent too long in deep thought, trying, _always trying_ , to put the pieces together, to remember, to _know —_).

This seraph did not look exactly like the Mikleo in his dreams; he was older and taller, his hair very much longer. But his eyes— _those beautiful jewel-like eyes —_they were Mikleo’s eyes, as captivating and as keen.

“Are you all right?” Sorey asked again, shaking his head to clear the haze of memories. “Here, let me pull you back up and—”

—and there was another deep rumbling, followed by an even stronger tremor. The ground beneath Sorey shook itself apart and crumbled away under his weight, plunging both of them down, down, down into the inky blackness of the chasm below.

“ _AAAAHHHHHHHHH!_ ”

It wouldn’t have made much of a difference, really, whether he yelled aloud or not. But Sorey was given to habitual and fervent displays of emotion, as Phoenix pointed out once— _he wondered, briefly, if this was how he was like before —_and since broken bones and impending death loomed below them, yelling in utmost fear throughout the fall didn’t seem entirely out of place.

Falling alongside him, Mikleo remained silent, seemingly as unfazed as Sorey was clamorous, with only a hint of concern in his furrowed brows. Reaching into the folds of his shirt, he pulled out a tiny vial filled with clear liquid. Thumbing the lid open, he released the liquid; his palm glowed with magic as he cast his seraphic artes and called upon a mighty surge of water to engulf them.

“W-wait, what are you doing?!” Sorey wondered if the seraph had decided it was kinder to have them drowned instead of being smashed against the hard, cold rocks that awaited them at the bottom of the fall.

“Hold your breath, Sorey!” Mikleo called out sharply. The water curled around the two, enclosing them in a sphere of liquid. And just in the nick of time too. A few seconds later, the edge of the sphere grazed along the wall of the chasm, before hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Sorey cracked open an eye and blinked, feeling the water around them shudder and ripple as it absorbed most of the impact from the fall. Mikleo was floating gently in the water just below him. As soon as Mikleo’s feet touched the ground through the water, the sphere shuddered again and— _pop! —_began to collapse. The brief weightlessness he had felt earlier disappeared, and Sorey suddenly found himself pulled forward by gravity, landing unceremoniously on top of Mikleo with a slight _oof!_

They lay like that for several shallow gasps, hearts reverberating in unsteady, erratic beats. Sorey wheezed painfully at length, the adrenaline from the fall still rushing in his veins. He caught the other seraph’s gaze. It was the same wistful expression he had worn before they fell—an expression of both disbelief and relief, of yearning and painful waiting.

Sorey realised then that he had been staring at Mikleo for longer than he should. Feeling slightly self-conscious and abashed, he shifted, trying to gently disentangle himself. His movement must have startled Mikleo from his reverie as well; he broke away from Sorey's gaze hastily. They were both moving too fast – too quickly together all at once, only to end up bumping foreheads. Sorey's surprised yelp had Mikleo reaching out anxiously towards him, one hand brushing against his cheek with a tenderness and affection that Sorey was sure now in his heart that he had always known, had always craved—

_Mikleo. I know him... I dream of him_ —

And then Mikleo was laughing softly, cupping his face with both hands. Sorey held his gaze once more, staring at those radiant violet irises, at the tears now in Mikleo's eyes. There was a familiar wetness that stung the corners of his own eyes, and the same yearning ache that bloomed within his chest now at the shadow of a sorrowful memory.  

"Sorey," Mikleo breathed, fingers brushing tenderly against his cheeks, his jaw, bringing their faces close. Before he could work through the swirl of memories and emotions within him, Sorey felt Mikleo's lips against his—happiness, loneliness, pain and relief all shared in their kiss. And Sorey _remembered , knew _ for certain now, _this_ was Mikleo; the same Mikleo who was ever present in his dreams, in the fragments of memory he had recalled from time to time.

Sorey remembered then—not all of it, not everything, not yet. But _Mikleo —_he remembered Mikleo, his dearest friend, his one and only, his _home._

"Someone sure took his time," Mikleo said, after they'd pulled apart slightly, resting their foreheads together.

“Sorry,” Sorey said, offering a weak grin by way of apology. “Guess I’ve always been a heavy sleeper... I think.”

Mikleo only huffed, his face crinkling slightly in petulance. “And still very much the pig, I see.” Then, embracing Sorey tightly—as though afraid of losing him all over again—and burying his face deep into the crook of his neck, he said, in a softer, gentler tone: “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know,” Sorey could feel the warmth of his friend's tears on his collarbone, the way his shoulders shook as he cried silently. He smiled, pulling him closer, blinking back his own tears as he pressed another kiss to the crown of Mikleo’s head. "It’s okay. I’m here now—I’m home.”

They held each other a little longer; unspeaking, remembering.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music inspiration: [embracing the light ](https://youtu.be/5k6kg---YKg)

* * *

 

**~.*.~**

 

**iii.**

**  
** “A normin, huh,” Mikleo said thoughtfully, glancing at the creature perched on Sorey’s shoulder. “And coincidentally one whom we’ve met before, so very long ago.”

“Coincidence? I think not,” Phoenix scoffed. “Maotelus knows I’m the strongest, if not the best, among the normin. Who better to guide our little Shepherd’s baby steps into the ways of seraphim?”

Mikleo didn’t look quite convinced, but had the grace not to voice whatever doubts he harboured, even though Phoenix’s haughty gaze seemed to be challenging him to do so. “This explains your extremely long absence then,” he said instead. “Atakk was worried that you had gotten yourself eaten up by a hellion in your quest for liberation, or worse.”

“As if I would be defeated so easily by a mere hellion! I’ll have you know, water-boy, that I’ve been in many a great battle, the most famous being the Third Great Normin Rebellion.”

“...Which was hardly ever considered an actual rebellion, even amongst normin themselves, given that _you_ were the only one involved. And _don’t_ call me water-boy!”

“Bah, you’re a water seraph, are you not? And of course you seraphim pick and choose which details you’d retain in your records; winners get to define history, yes?”

“But you _can’t_ win or lose anything if there wasn’t any uprising to begin with.”

“You two sure are getting along well,” Sorey chuckled nervously, slipping between the two in a bid to ease the tension from their bickering.

“We most certainly are _not_.” Both normin and water seraph bristled in unison, and Sorey regretted his comment almost immediately, raising both hands in defeat.

The sun was at its highest point in the sky when they finally found their way back out of the ruins. Mikleo had easily led the way, having in his possession a map he’d drawn up from a previous expedition.

“I first felt the changes while visiting the northern towns,” he said, clambering up the weather-worn handholds built into the earth and leading out from the underground passage. Sorey followed close and soon found himself emerging from a small hillside opening up to a dale swathed with tiny white and yellow flowers.

“I wasn’t sure what it had meant at that time, but Lailah and the others—they’d felt it too. So I came back to Camlann as quickly as I could only to find... well, you were already gone by then.” Mikleo paused, and Sorey caught a flicker of emotion crossing his features for the briefest of moments.

“The seal to Camlann wasn’t broken, however, and there were no traces of malevolence. Since it seemed that no one had forced their way in, the next logical conclusion was that you were finally awake and had left Camlann on your own. So I began to search for you in possible places.” His friend fixed him with a knowing smile. “Ruins weren’t a bad place to start.”

“I guess not,” Sorey grinned sheepishly, raising a hand to brush the back of his nape. Maotelus had never fully explained the circumstances of his long slumber, only that he’d once been human and a Shepherd. He was familiar with parts of Glenwood’s history and lore from old tomes and scrolls of writing he’d found in the time he spent exploring and travelling with Phoenix. But of his own time as the Shepherd? All he had was the ghostly imagery of dreams, a meld of kaleidoscopic scenes.

“Still, how did you know exactly which ruin to search in?”

“I didn’t; I searched in several other places before I came here. And even that was kind of on a whim... well, I suppose I did have _some_ help with wind this time.”

The sudden scowl that appeared on Mikleo’s features the moment the words left his mouth came as a surprise. Sorey wanted to ask what he’d meant by _help with the wind_ , but he sensed Mikleo’s unsaid reluctance for further discussion of the matter and glanced at Phoenix questioningly. The normin only shrugged and shook his head slowly. In any case, his friend was already making his way resolutely through the long grass. Sorey could only breath out a soft laugh—whatever it was, Mikleo certainly didn’t want to talk about it now, so he decided not to press for details. He bounded quickly to where Mikleo was waiting for him expectantly by a grove of small trees.

“I have been wondering,” Mikleo quipped, studying the ground Sorey had treaded on as he approached his side. “Is that...?”

“Huh?” Sorey paused, glancing down at his boots, wondering if he’d unintentionally stepped into some muck. Instead, he saw tiny sparks of light bouncing from underneath his soles with every step he made and he broke into a smile, eyes gleaming a bright green in the sun.

“Oh, that. Maotelus said it isn’t anything to worry about. Only that it seems to occur a lot more whenever I get, ah—”

_“Overly-enthused_ was the term he used, I believe,” Phoenix offered helpfully, and Sorey felt his face warm slightly, abashed.

“You’re a _lightning_ seraph,” Mikleo breathed softly, eyes wide with awe — _again, that quiver of emotion_ , _the tiniest hint of sadness —_before sweeping a glance at the short ponytail that Sorey wore, almost as if he was noticing for the first time how the dark oak-brown hair faded into streaks of burnished gold at the tips.

“Oh,” Sorey began, folding his arms as he studied the sparks at his feet again. He thought about the momentary sadness that had been in Mikleo’s expression earlier, trying to pin-point what it was about it that felt so familiar. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all. I’m just a little surprised; there aren’t many lightning seraphim, after all,” Mikleo said, meeting Sorey’s anxious gaze with a reassuring nod. “Then again, you’ve always been the fidgety sort and easily excitable, like static—probably why your hair’s a royal mess, even as a reborn seraph.”

Mikleo’s smirk grew wider, a teasing glint in his eyes now. “So I would say lightning actually suits you.”

This time, it was Sorey’s turn to huff in mock-annoyance as he leaned forward to nudge the water seraph playfully in the chest with his arm. The look of pure shock on Mikleo’s face was almost worth it, and Sorey was all but stifling his laughter. Mikleo was quick to retaliate however, and aimed a firm jab to his shoulder. Before long, both of them were locked in a friendly wrestle, fingers prodding each other in the ribs, dissolving into laughter whenever one managed to slip past the other’s defences and tickled him incessantly.

_We’ve done this before,_ Sorey thought, the memory of similar play-fights suddenly jumping at him from the recesses of his mind and he knew it wasn’t from his dreams, but from a time long past. He found the knowledge comforting.

Phoenix stood on a nearby boulder, watching them disdainfully before he finally let out a dramatic sigh and said drily, “Your lurid displays of affection for each other are so touching, it’s overwhelming. I should have left you two alone back in the ruins. Instead, here I am, caught in the middle and looking like the uninvited third-wheeler who crashed the party.”

At the comment, Mikleo threw a narrowed gaze at Phoenix before he straightened up, carefully dusting off the front of his tunic. He did not dignify the normin with a retort however, choosing to ignore the jibe, and continued on his way down the path. Sorey followed close behind him and they walked in comfortable silence through the tall grass. Before long, the trees began to thin and Sorey could hear the gurgling sounds of the river ahead.

Mikleo was already crouched over a cluster of shrubbery growing by the banks. Intrigued, Sorey watched as he dragged out what seemed like a large, oval-shaped board from under the low branches. He gave his friend a questioning look, but Mikleo only gestured for him to approach.

Sorey knelt beside the board, running his fingers over the top as he studied it. It was a strange-looking contraption; the main hull itself was wide and long enough to hold a person or two, with a cream-coloured centre that was smooth and cool to the touch and with short fins angled at the sides. There were two holding bars fixed on top of the hull, and an assortment of metal gauges and knobs built into the front.

“Is this some sort of transportation device?” Sorey asked, brushing a hand over the fins. “Did you _build_ this all by yourself, Mikleo?”

“I didn’t come up with the original design,” Mikleo said. His expression was calm as ever, but Sorey could sense his excitement as well; there was a glimmer in his violet eyes and his voice held a hint of pride as he began to elaborate further. “Most of the schematics are based on the heavier, slower Kites and Corvettes commonly used today by courier merchants. And of course smaller, foldable Ravens are popular for personal use, but they rely entirely on the wind draft and thermals for soaring over short distances. With a little help, I tinkered with the basic design and built this glider with its own propulsion engine for longer flight at higher altitudes.”

Here, the water seraph paused, one hand resting at his chin thoughtfully. “This is a relatively new design I’m experimenting with though, so there are still some minor adjustments I might have to make. And I think I can handle it well enough—come on, don't give me that _look_. I’ve already tested it and flown it a couple of times before!”

“I’m not judging!” Sorey said, perhaps a little too quickly. “Not your workmanship, at least... Er, what I mean to say is—can it really hold our both our weights? The hull looks pretty light.”

“Yes, easily so,” Mikleo said, even though Sorey could see a shadow of doubt cross his features briefly. “Well, _theoretically,_ it can. I won’t know for sure until we actually give it a try. Here, help me with this.”

Working together, they pushed the glider towards the river. Once the glider was in the water, Sorey held onto the back of the hull and watched as Mikleo pushed a knob at the front controls. There was the soft creak and whir of gears as the glider vibrated to life, and the slits at the end of both fins opened. A network of claw-like metal frames and fabric slid out from each side, unfurling like the leathery wings of a mechanical beast.

Sorey could barely contain a squeak of delight. With its wings stretched out, the glider reminded him of a sea creature he’d only read about in a book.

“It looks like the giant rays that live in the sea,” he said excitedly, studying the wing membrane. As he did so, the image of Maotelus gliding in graceful circles suddenly came to mind. “Or a dragon.”

Still perched on Sorey’s shoulder, Phoenix only clicked his tongue. He hopped onto the glider for a closer look before glancing up at Mikleo owlishly. “Funny how a _water_ seraph would build a flying machine and fashion it with dragon wings of all things.”

“One of my initial design ideas was to mimic bird wings,” Mikleo explained patiently. “But the feathered plumage would add too much unnecessary weight, especially for long flights. So I studied bats and flying lizards instead, and used fabric sails to replicate their wing membranes. In that sense, it isn’t really fashioned after dragon wings at all.”

“Well, dragon wings or not, it still looks really impressive!” Sorey said. “You really are amazing, Mikleo.”

It was probably the trick of the light above the water, but Sorey thought he saw a faint tinge of rose colouring his friend's face as his stoic expression softened. Mikleo smiled, the sun in his eyes and Sorey felt a slight pang in his chest, his breath catching at the sight— _how could he have ever forgotten that smile?_

Mikleo held out a pair of sky-goggles towards him and gestured towards the glider with a grin. “So, care for a ride?”

Sorey laughed, elated. “You bet I do!”

Mikleo instructed him to lie flat on his front between the holding bars, strapping a safety harness around Sorey’s torso. There wasn’t a harness small enough for Phoenix, so the normin settled in the crook of Sorey’s right arm instead, while muttering irritably, “ _Baby seraphs and their unquenchable thirst for danger_.”

Once they were ready, Mikleo stood over Sorey to work the controls, steering the glider towards deeper water and letting it drift along with the rushing currents to follow the course of the river. Sorey still wasn’t quite sure why they needed to be in the water; he glanced towards Mikleo, the question already at the tip of his tongue when the glider jerked sharply, skimming over the rough waters. Sorey tightened his hold around Phoenix, trying to see where the river was taking them, only to see the water several metres ahead of them rushing forward and abruptly disappearing, as if it were tumbling in roaring waves right over the edge of the world— _a waterfall?_

“U-um, Mikleo? I think now would be a good time to start flying?”

The water seraph did not reply, both hands still gripping the bars tightly as he kept the glider steady, checking the altimeter gauges. And then—

“Hold on tight, you two.” Mikleo breathed just as they reached the brink. The glider balanced precariously over the ledge for a heartbeat or two, before tipping forward and plunging down the cascading waterfall.

For the second time that day, Sorey felt his heart leaping into his throat and he was yelling. He felt Mikleo shifting his weight, tugging at the levers to pull the glider out of its nose dive to catch a rising thermal just as the propulsion engine roared to life. And soon enough, they were soaring up, up, up into the bright blue sky.

Sorey let out an ecstatic whoop of triumph, feeling the rush of wind all around them. “We did it, Mikleo! We’re _flying!”_

“Really?” Phoenix quipped shakily, paws digging firmly into Sorey’s arm as he clung on for dear life. “Feels more like we’re just falling _very slowly_ to our inevitable doom.”

Mikleo grinned wider at Sorey’s unbridled delight, shifting his weight once more and guiding the glider to soar higher to skim alongside the clouds. “I have to admit, there was a moment I thought this wasn’t going to work. I don’t think I’ve seen the view from this high up before.”

Sorey swept his gaze out at the landscape below them—at the rocky mountain ridge that skirted the swath of green meadows, dotted yellow and white with wildflowers; at the shimmering sapphire river that snaked through acres of flora before flowing into a faraway lake on their right. And seated right at the heart of the massive lake was a grand Aquapolis, bright blue and yellow banners fluttering in the wind atop polished ivory white towers that rose majestically from the misty waters. Clusters of green foliage spiralled up the towers and many of the similarly white-and-cream-coloured structures of the Aquapolis. Clouds of steam trailed from the Capital centre, gliders and air-ships in all manner of sizes circling in the sky above it.

“And what a view it is,” he breathed softly, marvelling at the scene.

They continued to watch in silence, gliding slowly in the breeze.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> [Jet-powered gliders](https://youtu.be/S5Gp2poW8rY?t=20s) for short flights are actually a thing. Imagine the day when engineers find a way to install solar-panels on the wings as an additional backup charger for the propulsion engine / for more forward thrust - we could literally have jet-gliding race competitions much like pod-racing a la _The Phantom Menace_ , maybe ?! The possibilities are endless !  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music inspiration for this scene: [all men must die](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oBC7-7DGeow)  
> 

* * *

 

**~.*.~**

 

**iv.**

 

It was possibly an accident waiting to happen, to be honest.

Or perhaps they just had plain bad luck because really, what were the chances a passing bird would veer off-course and fly straight at the glider’s right wing-sail? Sorey didn’t know, but before he could ponder any further, the half-stunned bird thrashed about frantically in a flurry of feathers and claws, ripping apart the fabric of the sail. The glider banked sharply, its nose dipping forward as the wind rushed fiercely about them. Mikleo punched at the control knobs and the propulsion engine whined as he tried to keep the glider aloft. But gravity was tugging at them, and with the tear in its wing-sails, the glider was spiralling down in a swift descent.  
  
“Brace yourselves, everyone,” Mikleo said, voice tight as he fought to hold the glider steady. Sorey could see the ground coming up fast below them and he curled an arm protectively around Phoenix, drawing the normin closer to his chest. He felt his heart pounding in anticipation, the blood rushing in his ears not unlike from before when he was falling down the tunnel with Mikleo.

(This shouldn’t already _be_ a norm with them, he thought; they’d only just supposedly reunited in less than a day!)

Just as he was readying himself for impact, the glider jerked sharply again to a grinding halt, its engine rattling and whining angrily in protest. Sorey cracked opened an eye in time to see a leather line and metal hook caught around one of the holding bars beside him, pulling the glider out of its downward fall. He glanced upwards, and saw the line attached to what looked to be a large air-ship cruising many, many leaps above them in the sky. Standing at the deck of the airship was a lone figure, his long white hair whipping about wildly in the wind, his face split into a smug grin as he waved at them.

Sorey heaved a sigh of relief, the tension and weight dissipating from his shoulders. Perhaps Lady Luck was still smiling upon them, after all.

****  
***** ****

Then again, maybe Lady Luck had a twisted sense of humour and decided to prolong their suffering. At least, that was the conclusion Sorey came to, judging by the extremely miffed expression that Mikleo wore now. Slung over his shoulders like an uncomfortable looking rug was the muscular and tattooed arm of their newest acquaintance—the tall, older seraph with the long, green-tipped white hair, whom Sorey had seen waving at them earlier from the deck of the air-ship which they all stood upon right now.

Well, at least to Sorey, he felt like a new acquaintance. From the way the seraph was squeezing Mikleo’s lithe frame with a bone-crushing hug and affectionately ruffling up his hair—much to the water seraph’s growing dismay—he seemed to be a close friend.

Mikleo’s exasperated frown seemed to suggest otherwise, however.

“How many times have I told you to lay off the hair, Zaveid?” he grumbled by way of greeting, politely but firmly breaking away from the crushing embrace.

“Well, nice to see you too, Mikkey-boy,” Zaveid chuckled heartily, thumping Mikleo on the back with a bit too much force, which earned him yet another frosty glare from the water seraph. “Oh come now. Can’t a man shower his friend with some good old amicable hugs without being judged for it? It’s been a long time since we’ve met and I’ve missed your company!”

Sorey couldn't quite stifle a chuckle; he was already warming up to Zaveid’s infectiously cheery disposition despite initial impressions—he had been strutting about bare-chested, after all, dressed only in a pair of black trousers and steel-tipped boots, with two gun holsters strapped to his belt and an odd-looking black top hat balanced on his head. If anything, he looked the part of a sleazy troublemaker and less like the carefree individual he was exuding now.

Zaveid swept his gaze over him then, as though he’d only just noticed Sorey’s presence. “And who’s the handsome young thing that you have with you here—” he trailed off, his eyes widening both in disbelief and recognition at the same time. “ _Sorey?_ Is that really you?”

“Er,” Sorey began, rubbing the back of his nape nervously with one hand, only to be swept into a crushing bear hug.

“Holy Maotelus, so it really _is_ our favourite Shepherd’s pie!” Zaveid said, gleefully embracing him tighter.

_Ow._ Sorey winced, but managed a tiny and somewhat confused smile. He tried hard to search through what little he remembered, mentally sieving through fragments of scenes that he wasn’t sure came from his dreams or were actual incidents from a past he supposedly lived. Nothing seemed familiar about this new seraph, at least not in the way he felt about Mikleo. Whoever he was, all Sorey knew was he was strong as an ox and possibly bruising a rib or two with his vice-like grip.

“Please do stop squeezing the life out of the poor child,” Phoenix said from his usual perch around Sorey’s shoulders, pinning Zaveid with a glare that rivalled even Mikleo’s.

“Well, well. Never thought I’d see you again, Mister Phoenix. This sure is turning out to be a day full of surprises,” Zaveid said as he pulled away, relaxing his hold on the younger seraph. He quirked an eyebrow towards Mikleo, that smug grin still plastered across his face.

It only took a few seconds, but Mikleo eventually caved to Zaveid’s unsaid question, exhaling deeply.

“This story’s going to take awhile,”  he said, moving to find a shadier spot away from the late afternoon sun. “Better make yourselves comfortable.”  
  


***  
**

The air-ship pilot and crew were long-time friends with Zaveid; they were a strange band of merchants known only as the Cloud Skippers, all of whom had a high enough resonance to perceive and interact with seraphim. They had decided that there were many trade opportunities that could be formed between humans and seraphim. It took some convincing at first, and a lot of patience, but things soon fell into place and the merchants now managed several shipments per week of the Two Kingdoms’ best spiced meat buns and pickled sweetfish, silks and basketry in exchange for embroidered goods, as well as leather-bound volumes that recorded the advanced seraphic knowledge of architecture and engineering.

“It’s still an early venture of course, so there’s no telling how it’ll fare in the long run. But hey, as the saying goes: nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?” Zaveid said, resting one arm languidly against the metal railings. At the old seraph’s offer, Mikleo had decided—albeit some initial reluctance—it was best to hitch a ride with the merchants. It would give the two young seraphim time to rest from their adventuring in the day. Plus, in several hours or so, the sun would begin its slow descent into the horizon.

The merchants had invited the seraphim to share their meals which Zaveid very nearly turned down at first, since they wouldn’t actually need the sustenance. But he had noticed the curious glimmer in the youngest seraph’s eyes at the prospect of food and decided it was a good socialization opportunity for all, and had accepted the merchants’ generous offer.

After a simple supper of bread and warm stew, Sorey had taken to gazing out from the side of the deck with a book in hand. It was a leather-bound book called the Celestial Record which Mikleo had with him— _"_ _We used to stay up all night reading this together, before setting out to explore all the remarkable sights mentioned in the book. Maybe it’s a good place to start with the memories, at the beginning of it all.”_

It was the first time he’d seen the book then, but thumbing through it now—it felt like he had always known the grainy texture of every mana-infused page, every detailed and coloured sketch, every bold letter carefully inked in velvet black and navy blue. For the first time that day, Sorey felt the smallest wave of nostalgia wash over him.

Zaveid had spotted him deeply absorbed in the book then, and ambled over for a chat. There was a moment of tentative awkwardness—mostly on Sorey’s part—but the old seraph’s easygoing demeanor set him at ease. Soon enough Zaveid was sharing stories about his long friendship with the Cloud Skippers and, naturally piqued by all these new information, Sorey began inquiring further about trade routes.

“Well, enough of all that business talk. Let’s get down to the real important stuff.” Zaveid regarded him with a sidelong glance, arms still stretched out against the railings. He reminded Sorey of a huge panther comfortably at rest.

“How have you been feeling, Sorey? Mikleo has filled me in and all, but I’d wanted to make sure myself that you’re doing okay.”

Sorey was surprised by the touch of genuine concern in the older seraph’s tone, before a thought hit him. Of course Zaveid would be concerned; he must have been the wind seraph Sub-lord who had served and fought hellions alongside him during his time as a Shepherd. So it shouldn’t have come at a surprise at all, except, try as he might, Sorey could not recall any of the moments he’d spent with Zaveid. He hadn’t even recognised him at first. While it made him glad to see Zaveid’s face brighten up every time he spoke, Sorey couldn’t help but feel somewhat dissociated from the knowledge of these great deeds he had supposedly shared with his seraph friends a lifetime ago and what he felt in actuality now that he was in their presence.

“It’s a lot to process in a day,” he admitted softly, surprised by his own honesty. “And it’s also kind of strange, since I don’t feel like I remember many things. But whenever I read through books like this one, I realise that some of these facts are not unknown to me. I’ve studied them before and I recall them readily.” He paused, brushing a thumb over the yellowing pages of the book in his lap, eyes downcast. “But my time as the Shepherd? I have no memory of it, save for the indistinct feeling that maybe it _was_ something I’ve done while travelling with Mikleo once, a long time ago. It’s... it’s a little disconcerting, I guess.”

Zaveid only hummed, glancing back over the deck at the fluffy clouds skimming below the air-ship. There was a solemn look in his eyes now. Sorey wondered if his words had saddened him, perhaps even offended him. He lowered his gaze again, feeling very young and very, very stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he said, dipping his head low in apology.  

“Sorry?” Zaveid’s head snapped back towards him, puzzled. “Whatever for?”  
  
“For... For not being able to remember all the times we’ve shared together when I was the Shepherd. I know those must have been very precious moments for you, that you cherished and held dear, and I... uh... are you _laughing_ , Zaveid?”

The wind seraph was all but sprawled over the railings, head thrown back as he let out an obnoxiously long and hearty guffaw, which quickly earned him curious looks from some of the deck-hands. It took a moment for Sorey to realise that Zaveid was, in fact, laughing at _him_.

“Oh, Sorey,” Zaveid said, once he had finally calmed down enough to speak again, palming tears of mirth from his eyes. “You don’t realise how much I’ve missed having your brand of corniness around—I swear you’ve got enough of it to feed an entire village!”

“A-ah, well...” Sorey tapped the side of his jaw tentatively, still not quite sure what it was that had tickled Zaveid so.

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Zaveid chuckled, throwing an arm around his shoulders and rubbing a knuckle into the side of his face affectionately. “If you ask me, I say it’s waaay too early for a seraph as young as you to remember _everything_ within a single day. You’re practically a new-born babe compared to the rest of us, and I do say this with much fondness. Besides, it’s a good thing you’re already questioning the stuff people have been telling you, and that you aren’t just buying into it. Good ol’ Maotelus may be back in business keeping the balance in Glenwood once more, but heck, there will always be shady folk around —both human _and_ seraphim, alike. ”  
  
“If what you say is true, then I’ve been really fortunate to have met only kind souls up till now,” Sorey said, thinking back to the time he woke from his slumber in the cavern and when he first heard Phoenix’s voice and then, Maotelus’ —

( _Even from the very beginning, he’d never been truly alone; someone was always looking out for him.)_

“Some people seem to have the luck of Five Lords with them, so to speak,” Zaveid chuckled as he straightened up. “I mean, seriously—how lucky are you to be able to bump into _two_ of your old friends within the span of a day, huh? Take Mik-boy here for instance.” He waved an arm out towards the far corner where the water seraph and Phoenix were now both hunched over the glider, diligently working at fixing the sails together. “He hardly ever visits, and the last time we stumbled upon each other by accident was probably five or fifty years ago. Imagine that!”

Sorey couldn’t quite hold back a laugh at that. “I really am glad we’re able to meet like this, Zaveid.” There was still a shadow of guilt that hovered over him, but he was heartened by the old seraph’s kindness. He managed a tiny smile, adding softly, “And I hope in time, I’ll remember those moments we’ve shared together during my days as a Shepherd.”

Zaveid only snorted. “If that’s what _you_ feel you need to do. In any case...” He glanced back over his shoulder at the merchants who had gathered in a circle several paces off to their left side. They were chortling merrily as they clinked their frothy tankards of ale together, sharing songs and tales of yore.

“Don’t let it get to you too much, kiddo. Let’s just cast our worries aside for the night and have some fun, all right?”

And without any warning, Zaveid reached over and grabbed Sorey by the arm, dragging him to join the merry circle. The commotion was enough to draw Mikleo’s attention towards them. Before he could so much as voice a question, Zaveid pulled him away from his work too, gently shoving him and Sorey towards the hustle and bustle. The merchants were already striking up a new tune on their violins and flutes, and before long, the two young seraphim found themselves thrust into the circle of dancing merchants alongside Zaveid, singing and drinking the night away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unrelated to Zestiria, but I'm pretty sure everyone guessed the GoT song even before clicking the link, lol. I'm not extremely invested in that series but Arya Stark's character arc (and by extension, Jaqen H'ghar's) is honestly one of the best things ❤ So, a girl felt compelled to share her love of that particular track here lol. _ ~~valar morghulis!~~_
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed reading this so far. Thanks for the kudos/comments for the previous scenes!  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music inspiration for scene#5: [journey's end (instrumental)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JVjZ8CeP4KM)
> 
> I can't believe they didn't include this track into the OST. bamco, why?

* * *

 

  **~.*.~**

 

**v.**

 

He awoke, the next day, to the feel of arms curled gently around his frame and Mikleo’s breath against his neck. Sorey sighed, leaning back into the comfort of the embrace, blinking at the spots dancing in his vision as he watched sunlight wafting in over them through the windows.

“It was a bad idea to listen to Zaveid,” Mikleo all but groaned into his ear, pressing his face closer into Sorey’s hair in a feeble attempt to block out the sunlight from his eyes. “Remind me to never make that mistake again, especially when it involves ale. Or any form of alcoholic drinking.”

Sorey hummed softly in amusement, before turning his body around so he could face Mikleo. He raised a hand to that picture-perfect face, brushing loose strands of silver-white hair away.

“Zaveid was right though,” he began solemnly, fingers nursing at his friend’s temples.

“Right about what?” Mikleo frowned, suddenly wide awake now and with suspicion flashing in his eyes.

Sorey could hardly keep a straight face at Mikleo’s endearingly annoyed expression. “About you being such a lightweight— _ow!_ Okay, okay, I take it back!”

He’d almost regretted the jibe— _almost_ , but not really—when Mikleo dove at him without any warning, jabbing two fingers at the exact spot he knew Sorey was most sensitive and pinning him against the bunk bed. Sorey laughed, squirming under Mikleo’s weight as he tried to fight him off to no avail. Seemingly satisfied with the tickle punishment he’d just meted out, Mikleo’s trademark glare quickly morphed into a small grin of victory. He reached over to brush a hand over Sorey’s face, pinching the side of his cheek nastily. “You’re lucky I happen to still like pigs.”

At the mention of luck, Sorey was reminded of his conversation with Zaveid last night, and how the wind seraph had said something similar.

“I guess I am in many ways,” he said, feeling a sense of pensiveness settling over him, even as he tried to match the water seraph’s grin with one of his own.

He had realised it from the moment he met Mikleo in the ruins, but in hindsight, he was only truly aware of it now, cognitively. Since their meeting, Sorey had felt lighter and more relieved than he had been in the months following his awakening. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, the heaviness from his limbs removed. He was less prone to being lost in his thoughts, his mind dancing in endless circles in a bid to piece together slivers of memory. And he was immensely grateful for that – for the ease, the momentary comfort that came with having Mikleo’s presence beside him to anchor him. There was still, however, a gnawing disquiet somewhere within him; a hollow ache that returned whenever he let his guard down, that stalked him like a creature of the night in particularly bad dreams—

_It was always that one dream that haunted him, visited him in the deepest recesses of his being: flashes of blue light so bright, it hurt to look; a cold, cruel laughter ringing in his ears; a girl’s angry outburst —"because of _ **you** _, so many have had to suffer, to die!” — _

There was an abrupt stabbing pain in his right eye, and he flinched, clapping a hand over his eye, inhaling sharply.

“Sorey?” Mikleo swept his gaze over him, anxiousness painted all over his features now. “What’s wrong?”

Sorey blinked several times, trying to even out his breathing, willing the coil of emotion in his gut to disappear.

“I-it’s nothing, really,” he offered as he pulled a hesitant smile, dancing around his friend’s unvoiced concern. “Guess I’ve been too indulgent with all the ale from last night. It’s making me feel all woozy right now, haha.”

Mikleo did not seem impressed by his excuse however, already fixing him with that particular narrowed gaze. The one Sorey had quickly come to recognise; the one that said Mikleo _knew_ he was avoiding the issue at hand.

Mikleo studied his features in the silence that stretched between them, thin brows knitted together in a frown, before he finally let out a sigh. There was no anger in the water seraph’s gaze when he brushed a hand over his face however, only concern and a tenderness that made Sorey’s heart clench in slight guilt.

“Are you sure about this?” Mikleo asked instead, shifting his weight as he leaned back slightly, thighs still straddled over Sorey’s flanks. “There’s no reason to force yourself, you know. Lailah and the others—they’ll understand.”

They had spoken about this before in snatches of conversation during the short time they had reunited, and had always arrived at the same conclusion. Sorey knew Mikleo was only looking out for him, was always ready to support him, to shield him from whatever he felt was unnecessary hardship or pain. But even so...

“I want to know,” Sorey said, reaching for Mikleo’s hand so he could lace their fingers together. “Maybe it’s a lot to ask for, but I want to at least understand what the old Sorey was like. The Sorey that wasn’t just the Shepherd who brought balance and peace back to Glenwood, but who was also once friend to both the humans and seraphim he met throughout his journey. I feel that it’s only right to do so, in honour of those who had believed in him, who had fought alongside him.” He paused, green eyes clouding once more with emotion. “The Sorey you know would have wanted it and— _mmphh??!”_

But Mikleo was already silencing him mid-sentence, pressing a finger firmly against his lips.

“Don’t say that,” he said, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Sorey’s. “If this is what you want to do, I won’t stop you. As for what the old Sorey would have wanted... well, we may never know. But _you’re_ here now — _you_ can decide the path you wish to take from here on. That’s all that really matters. And whatever you choose, wherever you go —I’ll come with you. If you’ll let me.”

Sorey felt the tightness in his chest easing, finding solace in those words. He managed a grateful smile, resting his hands on either side of Mikleo’s waist.

“Thank you,” he said, to be silenced again when Mikleo pressed a gentle kiss against his crown, long silvery strands of hair tickling his face.

“There’s no need to thank me,” Mikleo said softly, eyes warm with affection before he broke into yet another devious grin. Sorey felt fingers digging into his sides, and he squirmed helplessly again, laughing. “Hey, that’s not fair– _Mikleo_ , stop!”

And suddenly the door burst open as Zaveid casually sauntered in with Phoenix balanced haughtily upon his right shoulder. “Are you boys still snoring in bed when the sun’s already been up for hours— _Whoa._ ”

Mikleo was already bolting upright in shock, even before Zaveid finished speaking, accidentally snagging one loose lock of hair in the metal clasp of Sorey’s feathered ear cuff.

“ _Ow —! _” Sorey yelped from the sudden yank at his ear, the sound of his injured gasp making Zaveid freeze in his tracks.

“Whoops, am I interrupting something I shouldn’t have?” The wind seraph said, wearing the most ingratiating smirk upon his face as he slowly backpedalled.

Sighing deeply from his perch on Zaveid’s shoulder, Phoenix crossed his tiny arms and muttered, “So they _did_ get a room in the end. Baby seraphs and their… no, I’m not even going to finish that sentence.”

“It’s all right, Zaveid,” Sorey said, sitting himself up and stretching his arms out over him. “Mikleo and I were just talking about a few things.”  
  
“If that’s what you want to call it, sure,” Zaveid snorted in amusement, winking over at Mikleo who had moved away from the bunk he’d shared with Sorey and was now nonchalantly pulling back his hair into a neat ponytail. There was a knowing glint in Zaveid’s eyes, the smug grin still playing on his lips as he leaned indolently against the doorway. “Geez, have you two lovebirds been at it since last night? Must be nice to be young and so _spirited._ ”

“We might have done this before, I guess—?” Sorey mused at the exact same time Mikleo hissed icily, “We have not _been_ at anything.”

Zaveid let out a raucous laugh, unable to hold his amusement any longer at the way Mikleo was now staring slack-jawed at Sorey. He waved a hand at them as he doubled-over in hysterics. “Lighten up, Mikey-boy! I was just having some fun and pulling your leg there, can’t you tell?”

“Hard to tell when someone’s a known gossip-monger.”

“ _Ouch_. That accusation actually hurt.”

Sorey chuckled softly. He’d almost wanted to apologise on Mikleo’s behalf, but Zaveid was still snickering like a loon, his eyes bright with mirth.

“I may have a reputation for being extremely well-informed of people’s amorous affairs, but that doesn’t mean I don’t treat the knowledge of their dalliances with extra care. Old Zaveid might seem like a nosy fishwife but even the wind keeps its secrets and promises.”

Mikleo only made a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat, but at the very least, he seemed less prickly now, his posture relaxing a little even as he kept his arms folded over his chest.

“I presume you’d barged in here because you had something important to tell us...?” he said, attempting to change the subject.

“Yup. The air-ship will be passing by a stop close to a place I’ve been meaning to visit for a while. So I’d wanted to ask if the two of you would like to come along with me.” Zaveid straightened up, a wistful expression upon his features as he tugged at the brim of the odd-looking hat he always wore. “We could have a looksy around, maybe even meet an old friend or two. It’ll be fun.”

Sorey’s expression was immediately alight with fervour at the prospect of venturing to new sights. But sensing that perhaps Mikleo might not share similar sentiments, he glanced toward his friend as though to seek some assurance. Mikleo seemed hesitant at first, his expression a stoic paper mask as he contemplated Zaveid’s suggestion. He held Sorey’s gaze for a few heartbeats before his lips quirked into the tiniest of smiles and he nodded.

“Guess it’s not a bad time to drop by Rayfalke Spiritcrest. With luck, some flowers may already be in bloom.”

Zaveid squinted at the two young seraphim. “I swear, you two have this weird mind-link thing going on even after all this time,” he said, before turning on his heels and making his way through the door towards the ship-deck. “It’s like telepathic communication magic or something.”

  
*****

The air-ship bobbed gently in the breeze, hovering several metres above a dusty trail leading into the evergreen forest that stretched out before them. The dark silhouette of a large mountain loomed in the misty horizon to their far right. Zaveid tipped his hat ever-so-slightly at the human woman who was grinning up at him. She carded her fingers through her short pixie hair, before moving close to tap the old seraph’s bare chest lightly with her knuckle.

“Guess it’ll be another few years before we meet again,” she said, a twinkle in her hazel eyes.

“Oh ho, are you missing me already, Niav? Old Zaveid can always use the wind to deliver a letter or two your way to help keep you ladies company on your travels.”

“As if!” Niav chortled amicably. “And thanks, but no thanks. You may be a looker, Zaveid, and a trusty companion, but we Cloud Skippers very much prefer the company of our own girls any day.”

“Gghh, _roasted!_ ” Zaveid threw up his arms in mock indignation, doing his best to mimic the expression of a hurt baby animal. “Well, a great man knows when to concede defeat and accept that his charm will sadly never match those of his more esteemed female counterparts.”

“You are so melodramatic sometimes.” Beside him, Mikleo was already sighing heavily and shaking his head. But Sorey noticed the smile he’d tried to hide behind the hand he placed over his mouth and knew that as much as he’d never admit it aloud, Mikleo possibly enjoyed Zaveid’s harmless antics almost as much Niav and the other merchants did.

Sorey smiled at the Cloud Skippers’ boss, bowing gratefully. “Thanks for having us, Niav, and for all the help you’ve given us. Also, are you really sure about us keeping this?” He held out the palm-sized bronze cube that she had handed to both Mikleo and him the previous night, when they’d been busy fixing the glider’s torn sails. “It seems to be an old artefact dating back a hundred years or so, and created by seraphic artes. It might be small but it seems valuable, at the very least.”

But Niav only waved him off, the Cheshire smirk still playing upon her lips. “All the more reason why you guys should have it; it’s not like any of us humans could even activate it. But you two figured out that it was a portable storage cube in less than two minutes, while _we’ve_ been lugging it around for two whole months thinking it was some fancy paper weight!” She chuckled again, resting one hand at her hip —the gesture a sudden, fleeting reminder of another young lady, of someone that Sorey had a sense he might have known once.

“Besides,” she continued, “you’re gonna need it if you want an easier method to carry your glider around through those dense woods. So it’s totally fine! I’ll just add it to Zaveid’s tab.”

At her last words, the wind seraph puffed his cheeks out at her. He was poised atop the railing with a line in hand, ready to leap down to the trail below. “Whatever happened to the famed hospitality of the Cloud Skippers?”

“Well, you know what they say; no such thing as free drago stew for lunch.” Niav grinned, matching Zaveid’s childish pout with a coy wink of her own. They shared a hearty laugh and after another brief exchange of _thanks_ and _safe travels ahead_ , they bade their farewells and parted ways.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when Ufotable ~~hired better writers for the anime and there was still a semblance of plot and sanity in S1~~ unintentionally contributed to Sormik Week, and gave us a montage set against an _incredibly_ romantic rendition of [Determination of the Two](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x4yogng_go-shiina-determination-of-the-two-toz-x_videogames) with Sorey and Mikleo thinking about each other while being apart? Because I sure do. Good times.  
>   
>  ~~ _the moon!!! is beautiful tonight !!!!_~~  
> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's tradition for myself to spend my birthday writing and/or posting up fic (happy birthday to me!! lol). So let me share and bleed my zesty feelings all over this chapter, haha.

* * *

 

  **~.*.~**

 

**vi.** ****

 

The four seraphim spent most of the day picking their way through the evergreen forest. The path they traversed upon was narrow, but not difficult, littered occasionally with withered branches and fallen leaves. Spring was afoot and it was evident in the constant singing of birds high in the dark boughs above them; in the scent of bluebells that grew clustered among the roots of the giant oak trees; in the swaths of blooming wildflowers that blanketed the forest floor in a sea of yellow and white.

They did not converse much while walking. Mikleo was still nursing the residual headache from last night’s drinking and merrymaking, and preferred not to participate in the banters initiated by Zaveid. The old seraph seemed to have sensed his irritable mood, and thankfully chose to keep his needling down to a minimum. Sorey on his part spent most of his time observing the forest around them, his eyes bright with childlike awe whenever he chanced upon a new discovery, like an abandoned larks’ nest or the odd-looking ferns growing in clumps over fallen logs. Sometimes he would pose a question or two to Mikleo or Phoenix (who was always perched at his favourite spot on Sorey’s shoulder), but most of the time he was content to mull over his thoughts in private.

After two days of steady travel, the forest began to thin and soon the small company found themselves at the foot of the shadowy mountain.

“Here we are,” Zaveid announced solemnly, standing atop a small outcropping of rocks. “Rayfalke Spiritcrest.”

Mikleo was already several steps ahead of him, carefully navigating his way up the steep, rocky incline. Sorey quickened his pace to match his companions’, tiny bursts of energy crackling beneath his boots each time he hopped lightly from one stone step to the next, to stand beside Zaveid.

“Is this where your friends live, on such a cold, misty mountain?” he asked, marvelling at the daunting height of the cliff face before them. “And these friends—they are Mikleo’s friends too, right? Were they also Sub-lords to Shepherd Sorey once so long ago?”  
  
“Well, one of them was,” Zaveid threw him a sidelong glance. "Still sharp as a blade, huh, kiddo."  
  
"Ah _—_ " Sorey gazed about him, struggling to find something familiar in the scenery around them, only to run into yet another mental blank. "Nothing about this place rings any bells though," he sighed, dejected. "It's like... I feel an odd sense of déjà vu, as if I'm supposed to know I've been here before—with you and Mikleo?—and I think I _did_. But every rock, every leaf that I see around us now? It's all new and yet _not_ new and... I just don't know. I’m sorry, Zaveid."  
  
Zaveid's expression softened at that. "Hey now, no one said you have to remember everything at the drop of a hat. Heck, sometimes I find _myself_ spacing out in the midst of wrestling a trangelong, wondering if I had accidentally left the kettle on from last Thursday or not!"  
  
"Wrestling a trangelong...?” Sorey tilted his head, confused. “Wait, what’s a _trangelong_?"  
  
"Long story —remind me to tell it to you boys someday, preferably over a nice hot fire and some meat buns. But anyway!" Zaveid gave him a vigorous pat on the back, almost bowling him face-forward into the ground. "The point is, sometimes it takes time to re-adjust yourself to these things, and from the way I see it, you have _loads_ of that to spare right now. So keep your chin up, all right?"  
  
Sorey blinked, once again taken aback by the older seraph’s geniality and patience. "Thanks Zaveid. The old Sorey really was fortunate to have friends like you and Mikleo.”  
  
“And again, with all the _cheese_.” Zaveid gave a snort, pulling Sorey into a friendly headlock and ruffling up his hair. "Just like our old Sorey.”

Sorey laughed as he broke free of Zaveid’s hold, wrestling him off easily. He grinned. “I can’t recall any names right now, but I hope we’ll still be able to get along when we meet your friends.”

The cheerful glow was still in his eyes and in his smirk as Zaveid continued trudging up the slope, tempered only by a hint of plaintiveness. He raised a hand to tug the hat down over his eyes, his voice a barely a whisper above the rising wind as he said, “He would have liked you too.”

   
*****

They were past the midpoint of their ascent when Zaveid drew to a sudden halt. Sorey was in the middle of a deep discussion with Mikleo and Phoenix—they had been comparing the vast differences between the ecosystems that flourished at the base and the near-barren terrain at higher altitudes – when the old seraph veered off the winding path and towards the edge of the cliffside, coming to a standstill in front of a medium-sized boulder that overlooked the vast panorama of the valley below them.

Sorey trailed curiously after him. “What is it?” he asked, peeking past Zaveid’s taller frame to see what had caught his attention. He saw a small shrine seemingly fashioned from weathered grey marble erected at the foot of the boulder.

“Hey there bud,” Zaveid said softly, lifting his hand in a salute towards the shrine. “Sorry I took so long to come visit again.”

Puzzled, Sorey turned towards Mikleo, a multitude of questions already at the tip of his tongue, only to see the water seraph wearing the same look of pensiveness. He gazed back at the shrine again, and this time, he understood. It wasn’t a shrine where humans came to deliver their offerings and prayers to a seraph for blessings—it was a shrine that served as a resting place, a grave for the friend whom Zaveid had been talking about earlier. At that realisation, Sorey felt a bout of immense sorrow wash over him, and again—

_D_ _ark, leathery wings, teeth and claws flashing over him; a torrent of fire and stinging ash raining down; crimson eyes that burned, an ear-splitting roar and bubbling blood_. _But there were also tears of gut-wrenching grief; tears of relief, of joy that came with the release of death_ —

He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply before raising his right hand instinctively to rest over his chest in a gesture of respect. He allowed himself to experience the sudden flood of emotion, to understand, to _feel_. The flash of images was brief, but the intensity of the memories was stronger this time, the rawness of the sensations lingered deeper within him. He could feel Phoenix lightly brushing a tiny paw against the side of his head, as though in concern. There was the soft sound of approaching steps, and he sensed Mikleo shifting to stand beside him, nudging him gently with his shoulder. Sorey opened his eyes when he felt the movement; he held Mikleo’s gaze for a moment or two, before leaning wordlessly against his lithe frame, grateful for the closeness and touch.

Zaveid was now crouched low to the ground. He pulled out several odd items from the small pack he carried: a hand-held wind compass; a gold coin etched with the face of a grinning skull; a glass bottle and two earthen saucers. He laid out the items carefully, before he uncorked the bottle and began pouring out a rich amber liquid. The scent of florals wafted over them, carried by the light breeze; Sorey could almost taste the spicy tang of the drink tickling the back of his throat. Zaveid filled the saucers to the brim and set one before the grave. He then raised the second saucer up in a silent toast, looking to the skies with distant and sombre eyes, before downing the liquid in a single gulp.

“Eizen.” The name left his lips even before Sorey realised he had spoken aloud. He watched as Zaveid dusted off the front of his trousers and straightened up. “That was your friend’s name, right?”

“You remembered,” Zaveid grinned lightly. Sorey didn’t miss the emotion that coloured his tone, nor the way the sides of his eyes crinkled with fondness whenever his gaze came to a rest over the grave. He thought back to the flash of images, tried to fit the pieces together once again for a glimpse of any information to the past, but—

He lowered his gaze, shaking his head. “The name... it just came to me then, but I don’t remember much else.”

The old seraph’s expression seemed to deflate a little; Sorey immediately felt a twinge of guilt at his admission, at his inability to recall much more. But Zaveid was all smiles again as he turned back towards the grave, his eyes bright with memories.

“We go way, way back. I can’t even began to tell you how often we got ourselves into trouble during our madcap adventures around the continent and beyond. But Eizen had also saved my life many times over, so much so I swore that when the time came, I’d pay him back a hundredfold—a thousandfold even, if I had to.”

Sorey shared a soft laugh and exchanged a smile with Mikleo at that; the water seraph was already fixing him with a steady look that seemed to say, _this_ _sounds awfully familiar._

“Unfortunately, as it was with the way of things, when the time finally came for me to fulfill my promise to him... I couldn’t. I’d wanted so badly to, but every time I tried, I hesitated; I just couldn’t bring myself to deliver the final strike.” At that admission, Zaveid let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How easy it is to make promises when everything around you is fine and dandy. But when you’re actually backed into a corner and forced to face what a promise truly meant? I was young and stupid then, and probably no better than those humans who turned tail at the last moments during a battle. It was cowardly of me, I know. But I couldn't bear to raise a hand against a comrade who had fought by my side once.”

Zaveid paused then, gazing skywards at the clouds drifting slowly above them. A poignant silence hung between them, with only the faint cry of a faraway grifkyte and the soft rush of the spring breeze resounding in their ears. In the quiet, Sorey felt the dull ache of a grief he did not fully remember nor understand return, his heart weighted with momentary sadness.

“But then I met you and Mikleo, and everyone else,” Zaveid spoke again, turning to face his companions with a smirk. “I started travelling with you guys and it felt good to be part of a dysfunctional little band again. It reminded me of what Eizen would have really wanted in the end. So, thank you, Sorey—and you too, Mikleo—for helping an old seraph to keep his promise.” He slung his arms around the two younger seraphim and drew them into a tight embrace, much to Mikleo’s disgruntled dismay.

“What a merrily cacophonous bunch you all are. I was wondering who it was causing such a scene on my mountain.”

The sound of a new voice coming from right behind them had Sorey whirling around in surprise. He didn’t recognise the petite seraph who was now walking up to them, a light pink parasol twirling in her hands. At first glance, it was easy to mistake her for a human child teetering at the edge of adolescence. She was dressed like one, after all—she wore a high-collared white blouse with puffy sleeves under an orange bodice and a yellow skirt complete with ruffles and ribbons. Her blonde hair hung loose around her shoulders, save for a single lock worn in a side-ponytail and braided with a green lace ribbon.

Even though he didn’t know who she was, Sorey instinctively understood that her small frame and porcelain childlike beauty were only a ruse that belied an older, wiser and more powerful seraph—one who wouldn’t hesitate to demonstrate the force of her true strength and wrath if need be. (He also had a distinct feeling, without truly understanding how or why, that this wasn’t what his initial impression of her was supposed to be).

“Edna, darling!” Zaveid cooed, throwing his arms out in a show of theatrics. “A vision of utmost loveliness as always—it’s like you haven’t aged a day. No need to hold back on the show of affection now. Ol' Zaveid’s ready to catch you— _hey, watch the face!!_ ”

The petite seraph stormed her way up to Zaveid, completely ignoring Sorey’s baffled expression, and promptly jabbed the pointy end of her parasol at the wind seraph’s face before he could even finish his sentence. Zaveid managed to avoid the worst of the graze, but he was still sputtering and reeling away from shock.

Edna didn’t seem impressed by Zaveid’s antics however. Her expression was sullen as she rested her now-opened parasol over her shoulder, obscuring his profile from her view. Ignoring his histrionic whines of _Oh, Miss Edna, a beauty that stings straight to the core,_ she strode haughtily away from him to kneel before Eizen’s grave.

Sorey watched as she brushed a gloved hand over the marbled surface, tracing her fingers gently over the faded lettering etched into the stone. She frowned when she caught sight of the items Zaveid had laid out earlier, and Sorey wondered if she disapproved of them. Whoever Eizen was to her, he must have been as close and important as he was to Zaveid—that much he could tell, at least. It was evident from the way her expression softened, the way a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. But Edna simply set aside her parasol and reached into the pockets of her ruffle-skirt, pulling out a few of her own trinkets: a handful of coloured pebbles; a mason jar filled with earth and growing herbs; an empty shell of a sea creature hand-carved into the likeness of a miniature ship.

“Here, Eizen,” she said softly, placing the items next to Zaveid’s gifts. “I found some souvenirs you might like. There was a silly human girl who’d wandered too far up the trail today. I had to point her back towards the right direction lest she accidentally runs off the edge of the bluff just after the bushes.” Edna twirled the miniature ship in her fingers for a second or two before setting it down before the grave. “She gave this away as thanks. I thought it’d suit you more, since you’ve always loved being out at sea.”

Edna offered the last of her prayers in silence. Once she was done, she stood up and abruptly snapped her parasol shut.

“I don’t recall inviting this many trespassers over on such short notice,” she said sharply, her eyes flashing as she turned towards Mikleo. “Who’s your new friend? He reminds me too much of someone from a past long gone, and that bothers me more than it should.” She twirled the parasol coyly in her hands as she approached Sorey and pointed it menacingly at him like a sword. He felt her piercing blue eyes bore into him as she assessed him; he could only meet her frosty glare with a tentative smile of his own.

“If this is a prank you and Grampveid are playing...” Edna warned, sweeping her sullen gaze back at the others. “I’m not going to take too kindly to it, you know.”

“Come on, Edna—you know I would _never_ pull a prank like this,” Mikleo said softly, and at the tone of his voice, Edna’s hard expression finally gave way to disbelief. “It really is Sorey.”

There was a moment of contemplative silence, before Edna approached him again, warily and cat-like, her brows still knitted in a frown. Sorey watched her curiously, careful not to make any sudden movements in case she still felt threatened by him.  
  
“Do you remember anything, Sorey?” she finally asked.  
  
“Well,” Sorey thought for a bit, folding his arms. “I remember Mikleo— _ack._ ” He coughed harshly when he felt something hard abruptly smacking him against the chest, driving the breath out of his lungs.

“I mean _besides_ Meebo,” Edna said irritably, prodding him again with her parasol; it was almost as if they’d had this conversation countless times before and she was tired of having it again. “That’s like a given —you two are practically joined at the hip. What else do you remember from before?”  
  
“O-oh. Um, Mikleo and Phoenix have been filling me in along the way, so I know I was once human and a Shepherd.” He tapped a finger lightly against his face, trying to recall some of the details. “You must be one of the seraph friends I’ve travelled with before. Edna, right?”

“Yes, I was your earth seraph Sub-lord once, back when you were a Shepherd.” Edna turned to face their other companions again, and then towards the grave. “Eizen was my brother who had turned into a dragon. We had travelled the world together, trying to find a way to save him, but in the end...”  
  
_So that was who the dragon was in that flash of memory..._

Sorey swallowed thickly, shaking his head to clear the fog in his mind. He knelt before her, gazing into her piercing sky-blue eyes and offered her a bright smile instead.

“Is it all right for me to ask you more about the times we shared before when I was a Shepherd? And about Eizen? I know it’s probably impertinent of me to even ask like this, but there’s a lot for me to process still and I don’t think I could do it all on my own.”

He expected some sort of disappointment and anger on Edna’s part, and was prepared to receive it (he probably even deserved it, in some ways). But the earth seraph only furrowed her brows, pinning him with a look that was half-exasperation and half-amused. She huffed lightly, the faintest of smiles upon her lips now.

"Well, then. I guess I don't have much of a choice but to take yet another stupid brother under my wing again," she said matter-of-factly, as though she was merely commenting about the weather. She sent a simpering grin towards Mikleo, who only sighed deeply, his uncharacteristic lack of a protest seemingly a begrudging silent affirmation of sorts.

"Brother?" Sorey blinked at the sudden declaration. “But we’re not related”—he glanced sideways towards Mikleo as well, confusion written all over his features—“are we?”

Edna only shrugged. "No one ever said seraphim had to be related to be considered family. Besides, what would silly baby seraphs like you do without someone to look out for you?"

Her words were still curt, but they had at least lost their edge and Sorey could feel a gentleness within her tone that wasn’t there before. He felt the familiar hollowness within his heart once more as the guilt set in. Try as he might, he could not recall much about Edna beyond the slivers of memory resurfacing now as they spoke. There was a vague familiarity in her sharp tongue and her teasing nature, and he remembered the immense boost of strength when they were fused in their Armatized form, but he suspected the memory of that power had been ingrained more as a phantom tingle in his reborn seraph body than into his heart. The thought saddened him. And worse still, he remembered nothing of Eizen save the details he had just only learnt upon their arrival at the Spiritcrest.

"Sorry, Edna," Sorey said, unable to hold her gaze as he hung his head low in shame. "I wish I remembered everything we've shared and done together in the past. I can recall the bits and pieces, but I..." he faltered, hesitating, wondering if he should... No, he couldn’t—even if he recalled nothing about Eizen besides his name, he couldn’t find it within himself to pretend that he did, even if it was for her sake.

He inhaled deeply, before forcing himself to continue, softly: "I don't remember Eizen at all. I'm really sorry, Edna, but I don't want to disrespect the memory of someone you loved by pretending, and I... A-ah??"

Sorey felt scrawny arms wrapping around his neck as Edna drew him close into a tight embrace, one hand brushing the back of his head.

"Still the same Sorey as _I_ remember," she said, and Sorey felt the weight in his chest lighten, if only for the moment. He laughed softly as he hugged her back, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions within him.

"I'm sorry I couldn’t find another way to save Eizen,” he whispered as he allowed her to press his face into her shoulder.  
  
"Still the same silly Sorey indeed." Edna only held him tighter, fingers carding gently through his hair, her voice warm with affection. "Welcome back, little brother—I’ve missed you so.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I still drown in emotion and tears everytime I watch this sequence with [Eizen's theme](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x4ysjwv_go-shiina-aizen-s-theme-toz-x_videogames) from Ep 8 (hands down, the best and most well-written episode of the season). 
> 
> \- I'd like to believe that during the time Sorey was asleep and bound to Maotelus, the older seraphim made it a point to keep an eye out on Mikleo, to help ease the pain of waiting for centuries and to offer companionship whenever he needed it. Mikleo may be a proud baby seraph (in comparison with the rest, I mean lol) but he's also a smart and very pragmatic individual; once the rawness of his initial grief faded more into a muted ache, I think he would understand that one of the best ways to deal with missing Sorey is to keep himself close to a network of support - namely, his Elysian family and the human/seraphim friends he'd journeyed with. Plus he cares for his other friends just as dearly (Sorey's friends are Mikleo's friends too), so I can't ever imagine him wanting to completely severe _all _ties with them. ~~bonded by camaraderie and trauma, y/y?~~__


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music inspiration this scene: [silver leaves](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TiMqHB8kGSA)
> 
>   ~~/quietly professes latent love of Treasure Planet~~  
> 

* * *

 

**~.*.~**

 

**vii.**

 

“Are you really sure about this?” Sorey asked for what must have been the third time the next morning. He glanced curiously over the small items Edna had laid out beside her on the smooth, flat boulder she was currently seated upon. One was an item he had seen her place before Eizen’s grave when they first met—the miniature ship carved from a seashell. She splayed her fingers out over the figurine, streaks of magic dancing and flickering from her palm as she cast her artes, infusing it with seraphic mana. When she was done, she reached for the second item—a small pendant attached to a brown leather choker—and did the same. Once she was satisfied, she secured the pendant around her neck and wrapped the figurine in a satchel, pocketing it into her skirt for safekeeping.

Sorey continued to observe her expectantly; before long she finally lifted her head to frown at him, and said testily, “I’ve already told you all that I’m coming along, so yes, I _am_ really sure about this.” She waved her hand in a show of exasperation when Sorey still looked concerned and unconvinced. “It’s not as if I’ve never ventured down from this mountain before, you know.”

He pondered over her words for only a few seconds, before he realised she was referring to the time when they travelled together during his time as a Shepherd. He smiled hesitantly, even as he kept his arms folded over his chest while he mulled over the possible dangers they might face on their journey onwards.

“You mean you’ll be able to leave Rayfalke and travel away from your vessel? Isn’t that sort of dangerous though? A seraph doesn’t usually wander so far away from their domain at the risk of running into malevolence, right?”

Edna let out a soft snort, twirling the parasol in her hands before bringing it to rest over her shoulder.

“Well, you’re not wrong about that. But you’re also assuming that seraphim have never been forced to leave their domains before, which is completely untrue. There are times when malevolence invades our homes, even when we try our best to avoid human contact to prevent such things from occurring. If we’d just stayed put without having at least a portable, temporary vessel to bind ourselves to, we run the risk of being tainted ourselves and turning into a hellion. I’m not so careless as to not prepare a few backups for cases like that. Besides, you guys have been travelling all this time with portable vessels. What makes you think I won’t be able to do the same just for a short visit to Ladylake?”

Sorey opened his mouth to protest further, but faltered when Edna shot him yet another withering glare. He held her gaze obstinately for a moment or two before he exhaled deeply, shoulders slouching forward in defeat.  

“All right,” he conceded. “As much as it still worries me, I believe in your judgement for this.” He paused, pulling a silly sort of smile as he offered his hand out towards her. “Older sisters tend to know best, after all. So, I’m ready when you’re ready.”

Edna snorted again, except this time, there was also a faint twinkle of mirth in her sky-blue eyes. The contours of her lips curved ever so slightly to meet his own infectiously bright grin. She brushed down the ruffles in her skirt before she took his hand and leapt down from the boulder to land daintily beside him.

Standing several paces ahead of them and underneath the leafy boughs of a towering oak tree were their other companions. Zaveid was seated against the gnarly roots, glancing about this way and that restlessly; Sorey could sense the wind seraph’s eagerness to start moving while the dawn air was still cool and misty. Not far off, Mikleo was busy scribbling notes and sketches into his log book while in deep discussion with Phoenix, who was draped lazily over his shoulders. It was a sight that Sorey found himself smiling at in quiet amusement. Despite the pair’s occasional snippy verbal exchange over the _most_ mundane of things, he could see that the two had become fast friends and genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.

(He was quite certain, however, that Phoenix would vehemently disagree at the notion that he’d taken a liking to not one, but _two_ baby seraphs now.)

“I presume Miss Edna is still all set on joining our little party and to mosey all the way back to Ladylake,” Zaveid said as he straightened up, his trademark smirk already blooming across his features. “There’s no need to fret about wandering hellions and the like, not with a handsome and robust old seraph like me to protect you and tuck you close to my warm, sweaty bosom— _OUCH!_ ”

“Didn’t think you could fall any further down the level of filth, but you just did,” Edna snapped waspishly, digging the tip of her parasol into his back again for good measure. “Less talky talk and more walking, Grossveid. Or did you forget _you_ were the one who insisted on setting out bright and early?”

“You’re right. Totally my bad for holding you guys up.” Zaveid tipped his hat in a show of apology, before glancing sideways at where Mikleo was still seated and putting the finishing touches to the diagram he’d been sketching. Sorey caught the gleam of mischief in Zaveid’s amber eyes just as he stretched out nonchalantly and plucked the quill from Mikleo’s hand in one smooth motion.

“What... Zaveid!” Mikleo glanced up at the flash of motion before his face. By the time he’d realised what had happened, the wind seraph was already bounding forward down the slope, waving the quill about back at them obnoxiously.

“Chop, chop, Mikey-boy, no time to dawdle! Race ya to that old pinewood tree down east!”

Sorey had expected at least a petulant remark or two from Mikleo at that taunt, complete with a frown and the iciest glare he could muster. Instead, his friend only clicked his tongue once, before he tucked his notes away carefully into his pack and rose to his feet. He grinned at Sorey, the same light of mischief dancing within those violet eyes.

“Last one down to reach the tree will have to set up camp tonight!” was the only thing Sorey heard before Mikleo was dashing away after Zaveid’s retreating back, his long ponytail trailing out behind him in the breeze.

Sorey blinked blankly after them, and then—

“Hey!” he cried indignantly when he realised he was being left far behind. “That’s not fair—you guys had a head-start!”

But even in that moment of indignation, he felt laughter bubbling up from within him and he broke into a grin, eager to beat the two at their own game. He sprinted excitedly after them, sparks of energy crackling beneath his steps and stirring up a tiny whirlwind of fallen blossoms fluttering in his wake.

Edna watched her three fellow seraphim as they raced down the rocky path, their laughter echoing in the crisp dawn air.

“What a bunch of children,” she muttered, her lips pressed into a faint smile as she exchanged a wordless gaze with Phoenix, reading the same look of resigned amusement in his expression. Allowing the normin to hop lightly onto her shoulder, she opened her parasol and slowly made her way down the path, each step dignified and poised like a noblewoman’s.

*****

After several days of steady travel, they finally arrived at the entrance of the stone-cut bridge leading into the city of Ladylake. Sorey stared wordlessly past the archways overhead and straight up the city’s towering architecture beyond the walls, feeling his breath catch at the astounding sight. The Aquapolis had been a wonder to behold when viewed from above in the air during his gliding adventure with Mikleo and Phoenix. But now that he was in even closer proximity, he was struck once again by the Capital’s majestic beauty and grandeur.

He was still staring wide-eyed and digging his heels into the ground in anticipation when Mikleo approached him, playfully bumping shoulders against his.

“This is why you’re so bad at winning races,” Mikleo said, smirking at the way Sorey’s eyes were gleaming like a child who’d just been presented with the biggest bowl of dessert. “You get distracted way too easily and lag behind all the time.”

At the jibe, Sorey finally tore his gaze away from the city. He scowled good-naturedly, sticking his tongue out petulantly at Mikleo.

“For someone who has a knack for accidentally springing traps _and_ falling down holes, you really aren’t any better.”

“That’s not the same.” This time, it was Mikleo’s turn to let out a grumble as he crossed his arms sulkily. “Traps are harder to spot in ruins and yes, I admit that even I make mistakes sometimes. But at least _I_ don’t intentionally go poking a stick into some unknown creature’s burrow like a certain someone I know —that was just _begging_ for trouble.”

“Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best idea back then," Sorey huffed just as sulkily. "But it turned out to be an abandoned rabbit’s nest, so it was fine in the end, right? And like you’re one to talk about trouble. I wasn’t the one who took the first bite out of an overripe fruit we weren’t sure was edible or not.”

“What? That’s because I was looking out for you! I had purchased medicinal tonics from Niav, so I could have easily used them as a remedy for spoilt fruit and— _hey_ , what gives, Edna?!”

Sorey leapt back at the same instant Mikleo did, startled by the sound of fabric snapping taut and by the sudden appearance of Edna’s opened pink parasol shoved in between them.

Mikleo was already glowering at the earth seraph, who was still idly twirling her parasol in circles to keep the two apart as she eyed them both with disdain.

“Look, it might be a beautiful day out”—she drawled, voice already dripping with utmost boredom—“but I’d rather not spend it stuck on a bridge listening to your dumb marital squabbles about who gets first dibs on eating rotten fruit. Besides, it’s _really_ discourteous to keep a lady waiting in such unbearable heat.”

Mikleo looked ready to retort, but seemed to think better of it. Muttering a quick _fine, whatever_ , he stormed ahead to where Zaveid was watching them with amusement.

Sorey offered the grumpy earth seraph a sheepish smile before he jogged quickly after Mikleo’s retreating back, lest Edna decided it was a good idea to stick the sharp end of her parasol into him yet again.

The soldiers standing guard at the city gates had little to no resonance, so they could not perceive the group of seraphim silently weaving their way through the crowd. Sorey and his companions slipped past them easily through the massive iron gates and soon found themselves within the city walls and in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the Capital.

“It’s a lot livelier today than I’d expected—seems like there’s a festival going on. Talk about great timing, eh?” Zaveid said, sweeping his gaze over the throngs of humans dressed in a medley of bright colours. Most of the ladies and young girls wore wreaths of flowers braided into their hair, their faces lightly dusted with shimmering powder and painted like dolls. Some of the men also had wreaths in their hair but theirs were simpler by design, and woven with leaves of laurels or dried lavender.

The group followed Zaveid as he led the way, navigating through the crowd carefully and trying not to attract too much attention. Sorey recalled how Phoenix had explained to him once that there had been a significant increase in the number of humans who had enough resonance to perceive seraphim, and how it had steadily grown in the centuries he had been fused with Maotelus in slumber. However, most seraphim still chose to live outside of human cities, preferring instead to reside closer to nature and in smaller, isolated communities. There were, of course, more seraphim who ventured into human cities now out of curiosity and in the interest of trade and knowledge. It was also not uncommon nowadays to find small bands of wanderers consisting of both humans and seraphim, and nearly all cities and villages had at least one guardian seraph and a normin keeping watch. Still, in a city as populous as Ladylake, humans with low-resonance outnumbered those who could interact with seraphim, so it was always a good idea for a seraph to tread as inconspicuously as possible to avoid causing a major disturbance. Humans were always so ready to jump in fright at even the slightest hint of paranormal activity, after all.

Sorey was exhilarated, however, whenever he caught a glimpse of a human or two who’d spotted them passing through—usually it was the children who noticed them first, and who smiled and waved. He couldn’t quite explain it, but seeing how some of these humans were happy to see them and readily welcomed them... he felt the tingle of warmth spreading in his chest as he raised a hand to wave back, grinning brightly. He wondered if Mikleo noticed the children as well, and turned to gaze at his friend, only to see the same smile spreading across the water seraph’s face, the same warmth and quiet joy reflected in his violet eyes.

On a whim, he curled an arm around Mikleo’s waist and pulled him close, nuzzling the side of his cheek gently. Mikleo seemed surprised but didn’t move away from the touch, eyebrows quirked slightly instead.

“No real reason,” Sorey replied to his unsaid question, still beaming like the sun. “It just felt like we’d achieve something, that’s all... though I’m not quite sure what it is.”

Mikleo laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re incorrigible, sometimes. But you’re also not wrong—coexistence between humans and seraphim _is_ possible, and it’s something that’s growing more common by the year.”

“Coexistence,” Sorey repeated, finally releasing his hold. “It was Shepherd Sorey’s dream, right?”

“It was _our_ dream,” Mikleo corrected him, pinching his cheek. “And it was a dream made possible because both humans and seraphim believed in it and worked hard at it...”

There it was again, the quiver in Mikleo’s voice; he paused, a sigh escaping his lips, and then—

“Because _we_ worked at it and sacrificed everything for it by giving our all.”

Sorey didn’t miss the subtle shift in his expression, the hint of despondency skimming fleetingly at the very edges of his features. But before he could ask further, it was gone, slipping back under elusive waters and Mikleo was already moving ahead, putting distance between them. Sorey felt a sudden twist of emotion in his gut— _was it hurt or merely confusion? —_and wondered if there was something else he’d missed in their conversation...

“Well, here we are at last! The Great Sanctuary of the Sacred Blade, home and vessel of the Lady of the Lake.” Zaveid’s loud announcement wrested Sorey’s attention back to the present, and he paused in his tracks, suddenly aware of the building they stood before right now.

The Sanctuary was built out of hewn stone, much like the bridge they’d crossed earlier. It was a grand old building that had weathered through the harshest of winters and storms over centuries; Sorey could glimpse cracks spreading throughout the grey stone walls underneath the layers of paint. And even though the stained-glass windows shone brightly in a kaleidoscope of colours each time sunlight filtered through, there were visible gaps in the windows with a missing pane or two that needed replacement. Contrasted against the polished and cleaner, modern architecture of the residential and business district in the Capital, the Sanctuary looked archaic. Even so, Sorey thought there was a profound air of serenity about it.

The two guards who kept watch at the Sanctuary gates were unable to perceive seraphim either, and the small group easily made their way past the humans, only to abruptly run into the path of a brown dog. The dog sniffed at them, its ears alert and pricked forwards as it wagged its white-tipped tail slightly from side to side. Mikleo was already tensing up beside him, but before Sorey could distract the dog, he felt a flash of movement from his shoulder. Phoenix had leapt down to land before the dog, his tiny paws held up and ready for a brawl. Startled, the dog began barking as it pranced about excitedly around the normin.

The commotion might have gone on longer (and very likely to attract too much unwanted attention) had Sorey not moved to scoop Phoenix up into his arms.

“Unhand me, little one! I can take the mutt easily,” Phoenix said, paws still balled into tiny fists. He made no real attempt to break free of the seraph’s hold, however.

“I’m sure you can, but we really don’t have time for that.” Sorey chuckled, lifting Phoenix up to his favourite perch upon his shoulders.

The dog fell silent at Sorey’s approach, watching as he crouched low and held his hand out slowly so that it could sniff his palm. It whined softly, wagging its tail in a cautious show of friendship. Sorey let it lick the back of his hand while he motioned for Mikleo to walk on with a single glance. Once he judged that Mikleo and the others had moved on far enough ahead, he patted the dog’s head, scratching it lightly behind the ears and followed after his companions.

They made their way across the small courtyard, entering the Sanctuary through polished oak doors. Once inside, they were greeted by a peaceful silence that hung in the air. The main chamber room was dim, illuminated only by the row of candles glowing from the wall sconces. Sorey felt a shiver of déjà vu running up his spine, balking slightly when he caught sight of the embellished hilt of a sword in the centre of the room, the blade impaled deep into a stone pedestal.

Before the pedestal was a carpeted dais flanked by two flights of stairs, and seated upon the platform was a woman—a beautiful seraph dressed in a raiment of red and white, her glossy long hair pulled back and held in place with a gold headpiece. She seemed deep in thought, her gaze fixed upon her lap as she folded pieces of coloured paper into an assortment of shapes.

“My, my! Looks like we’ve just found us ourselves a damsel in distress,” Zaveid said loudly to announce their presence, sauntering up closer to the pedestal. “Are you all right, Lady Lailah? Should I whisk you from your cold stone bed and away on an adventure?”

At the sound of his approach, the seraph Lailah raised her head, flicking her gaze towards Zaveid and his group.

“Oh,” she said, the look of surprise replaced by one of joy as she quickly rose to her feet. She stepped eagerly down the stairs so she could greet them. “I thought I had felt a familiar presence. Such a pleasant surprise to see you all.”

Zaveid held his arms out, ready for her welcoming embrace, but she easily side-stepped and twirled away out of his reach, much to his dismay. She gave Edna a quick hug instead, to which the earth seraph’s only response was a disgruntled sigh, and—“ _Honestly._ It’s not like we didn’t just see each other some thirty-odd years ago.”

Lailah laughed, her voice the merry chime of bells in spring, and Sorey felt yet another shiver of familiarity, a muted rush of affection for this new seraph. He watched as Lailah greeted Mikleo with an embrace, much like how a mother would welcome the return of a son who’d been away far too long.

“It’s good to see you again, Mikleo,” she said, the smile still playing upon her lips when she’d pulled away, her hands still cupping his face. “And what a fine seraph you’ve grown into.”

Mikleo only chuckled, grinning abashedly at her compliment. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well too, Lailah. It’s been quite a while. Also, I think there’s someone else you’ll want to meet...”

Sorey felt a bout of nervousness wash over him then. At Mikleo’s encouraging nod, he stepped forward to stand before Lailah, whose eyes had gone wide with disbelief.

“Oh my—” She raised her hands over her mouth, her blue-green eyes glistening with tears when she finally recognised him. “Is that really you, my dearest Sorey?”

“Hello,” Sorey offered her a tentative smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Lailah. And I guess I am...? I’ve heard all about you from Mikleo, and how we had travelled together once. You were my fire seraph partner and my Prime Lord when I was the Shepherd, right?”

“Oh... Yes, I was indeed.”

He caught the change in her expression, the tiny flicker of sadness ( _disappointment?_ ) over her features —and _again, that coil of emotion rising in his gut_ —

But she quickly wiped the corner of her eyes with a hand, and before long she was all smiles again, her eyes glimmering with excitement now. She circled carefully around him, sweeping an appreciative glance over him.

“Ah, you’re a lightning seraph, as befitting of you. And the cloak that you’re wearing now,” she gestured over his clothing, “it was once the Shepherd’s mantle, wasn’t it?”

Sorey fiddled with the hem of the cloak draped over his shoulders, feeling the texture of the cloth between his fingers. Its design had changed physically somewhat; its pure-white colour was now a light tan, the black embroidered patterns reduced to a simpler leaf and vine motif in forest-green trimmings. In essence, it was still the same Shepherd’s cloak he had woken up in, but now imbued with seraphic mana and Maotelus’ blessings.

_“May it continue to keep you safe in search of answers, little one. And may you find luck dancing, wherever your heart leads you.”_

He shook his head slightly, the echo of the white dragon’s final farewell still etched deep within him, before lifting his head to meet Lailah’s gaze once more with another smile.

“It is. Maotelus refashioned it so that it would work better as a travelling cloak.”

“It’s also because you’re no longer a Shepherd, little one. You’re a wandering seraph now, much like the rest of us.” Phoenix quipped from where he was draped languidly over Sorey’s right shoulder.

“Oh, what a surprise to see you again, Phoenix,” Lailah said, beaming brightly.

“Phoenix was actually the first person I saw—besides Maotelus—when I awoke. He’s been helping me find my bearings along with Mikleo,” Sorey said as he tapped a finger gently against the normin’s head.

“I see,” Lailah said, dipping her head graciously toward the normin. “Thank you, Phoenix, for looking out for Sorey and for guiding him all this time. You have my immense gratitude.” She turned towards the rest of the group, clasping her hands together as a thought came to her. “What a splendid reunion this is! I’m so very glad all of us could be together again after all this time. And what great timing too. The spring festivities have only just begun yesterday and there’s so much to see in the city!”

She linked one arm around Sorey’s and another around Mikleo’s, gently tugging them toward the door in her eagerness. “Come, let me show you around. It’ll be so much fun and I know you boys are always so keen on these things.”

Sorey let out a soft laugh, grinning widely as he allowed himself to be towed away. “Lead on then, O Lady Lailah.”

Standing a little way off behind them, Edna only tutted, tapping her closed parasol lightly against her shoulder. “Guess there was no need to have worried about her at all. She seems to be doing just fine.”

“Oh, is Miss Edna feeling all left out? Fret not, I'm still up for some company as we take a looksy around the city. And what better company than a pretty little lady with a bit of a mean streak?” Zaveid teased as he leaned forward slightly, holding out his arm towards her.

Edna only sighed deeply, but to his surprise, neither flinched away nor jabbed the parasol into his face as she was wont to do at other times. Instead, she offered him a rare half-smile—one that had him almost breaking out in a cold sweat and wondering if she was going to inflict bodily pain upon him with the use of her earth artes.

“Well, I guess even ladies have to lower their standards from time to time,” she huffed airily. “Hurry up, Grampveid. I don’t want to get lost amidst a crowd of stupid humans.”

“After you then, Miss Edna.” Zaveid guffawed, tipping his hat as he held the doors open. He watched as she marched past him to catch up with their friends, and smirking ever more, he followed suit.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music inspiration for this scene: [bolmus populi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JliFaj-JHqw)

* * *

 

  **~.*.~**

  
**viii.**

 

They spent the morning strolling through the Central district, weaving through roads packed with a motley throng of people. It was obvious that Lailah took great pleasure in playing the helpful tour guide; she made sure to direct them to the major festival attractions. One such attraction was the Marketplace square that housed traders who had travelled from all over the Two Kingdoms and the Northern cities. There were the flower stalls famed for their misty blue hyacinths (rumoured to be a favourite of the youngest Rolance prince), and Hyland tulips that bloomed in a unique blend of orange and purple; the spice merchants who hailed from the seaside port towns beyond the Hunting Grounds; the hydroponic farmers of the Zapghott Moorland, renowned for their prominent use of solar-powered agricultural belts built from seraphic technology (their fresh produce were popular ingredients among celebrated inn chefs); a tinker shop run by twin sisters, who specialized in repair works and customised foldable Raven gliders; and colourful thrift stalls that traded in an assortment of pottery, embroidered fabrics and antiques.

There was a vibrant energy in the air above the lively chatter of the townsfolk; Sorey could barely contain his awe as he stepped through the square, the thrum of anticipation within him. There was so much to _see_ , to discover in every nook and cranny of each multi-coloured stall! And it took nearly all of his self-restraint to not dash about excitedly alongside a group of human children who were skipping through the crowd while playing a game of catch-and-tag.

Thankfully, Lailah decided to stop by one of the aisles, and Sorey soon found himself readily distracted in a corner lot that had a simple sign that read ‘Book Ends’ draped over its blue-and-yellow checked awning. It was a shop that sold second-hand books and old tomes of writing. Before long, he was browsing through a number of wrinkled volumes, all painstakingly inked by hand and leather-bound—a dying trade these days, according to the shopkeeper, with the emergence of steam-printing and the rising popularity of portable data cards based off seraphic technology.

A few stands to his left, Mikleo was also busying himself, arms folded over his chest as he inspected several antiques displayed across the long table.

“What are you looking at?” Sorey asked, peering over his shoulder.

Mikleo hummed softly, brows knitted into a frown as he replied, “It says here that these are actual artefacts excavated from ruins found beyond the mountain ridge of Mabinogio, which seems highly doubtful. I have explored parts of those ruins once before, and everything about these designs here”—he held up a medium-sized earthenware bowl so that Sorey could take a closer look—“and the knot-work pattern designs on the side? They are all wrong and hardly reflects the era in which those ruins were believed to have been built.”

“Maybe they came from a different part of the ruins? I’ve read that the ruins extend further underground, so unless you’ve explored _every_ single nook and cranny inside of it, you can’t be certain that these are only replicas. There's a chance that they _could_ still be authentic.”

“I think the highly exorbitant price alone is an indicator of it being a genuine rip-off. Besides, if these were really excavated from the ruins, why peddle them off here in a market place? Why not have it assessed by an official Appraiser in Marlind instead?”

“Or maybe they’ve already done that and still decided that buyers in an open market would fetch a better price. It might seem like a novelty item, sure, but it _is_ aesthetically pleasing too. That has to count somewhat toward its value, right?”

“It would be an _outrageously_ expensive trinket if that was the case.” Mikleo waved a dismissive hand over the item. “Look, it’s not even embellished with gemstones! It’s just your standard earthenware bowl, possibly only ever used to contain soups and sweet meats centuries ago.”

Sorey only frowned, crossing his arms in a show of disagreement. “You sure jump to conclusions really fast.”

Standing a little way off behind the bickering pair, Edna was tapping her parasol against the cobblestoned ground impatiently, her expression set in barely disguised tedium. “Do they really need to get all up in arms over a silly bowl?”

To which Zaveid’s only remark was an amused snort, as he shook his head. “It wouldn’t be them if they didn’t.”

Beside him, Lailah laughed softly in agreement. “It’s nice that we get to spend some time together like this again though, even if it may only be for a short while. I didn't realise how much I’ve missed everyone’s company until now...” She trailed off as she looked upon the two young seraphim before her once more. Her gaze was filled with a wistful tenderness, tempered with secrets and memories of a past she could not speak of aloud.

“I’m grateful to be given the opportunity to experience this again – even if Sorey doesn’t seem to remember much else besides his shared moments with Mikleo, which must have been very dear to him.”

At the brief mention of his name, Sorey finally perked up, glancing curiously over his shoulder at the fire seraph.

“Sorry. Did you say something, Lailah?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Lailah graced him with a stunningly luminous smile, clasping her palms together. “I was just telling Edna and Zaveid how you’re like a mug of liquid comfort. Sweet with a dash of zest, and good for cold, wintry nights!”

“I... Huh?” Sorey frowned, head angled in slight puzzlement.  

“Anyway,” Lailah continued breezily, picking up the pace once again. “There’s still so much to see. Come, let me show you around more!”

As they continued their way through the Central district, Lailah spoke of the Spring Solstice Festival, held annually at the turn of the season when the first flowering buds appeared after the cold winter months. The Festival was held over a fortnight, and for two whole weeks, there would be a flurry of activities held all around Ladylake. Most of the sporting events—friendly jousting between would-be knights and trainees, archery competitions, and obstacle/scavenger racing games for youths and children—were held in the morning when the air was still crisp with the lingering chill of dawn. As the day grew warmer, the crowd would settle themselves at a slower pace while they lunched. They would chortle merrily, sharing their meals in one of the established bars or in a cosy restaurant, or even out in the open by the stony benches that lined the walkway. And they would look upon the grand Water Wheel of the Aquapolis as they savoured their meat buns and stews, washing the food down with frothy swigs of ale.

When the day eased into late afternoon, the street performances began in full swing—poetry readings, song recitals, and various performances by charmers and illusionists. There were noticeably more seraphim involved in these activities alongside their human companions—more so than the ones held in the morning, at least—and Sorey was mulling over the differences when Lailah drew to an abrupt stop once more.

“Oh, looks like we’re just in time for the play,” she said, eagerly pointing ahead of them.

Intrigued by the commotion, Sorey was the first to move to her side, peering over the gathering crowd. He saw a large pageant wagon bedecked with colourful velvet curtains, embroidered with the finest of details. There were two wooden stairs on each end of the wagon that lead up to the raised platform stage. And upon the stage stood five children who looked about eleven or twelve years of age. Their faces were painted and they were dressed in fanciful costumes. One girl, dressed in a plain blue tunic and beige pants, moved to stand next to one of the props. She grasped the end of what looked like the wooden hilt of a sword and pulled hard. There was a collective gasp from the audience, which swiftly became cheers when the girl easily drew out the wooden sword from its pedestal and held it up triumphantly.

“It’s one of the highlights of the festival,” Lailah explained when she noticed the intent look in Sorey’s eyes. “Usually the school children are the ones to re-enact the play, assisted, of course, by a number of their educators.”

“Is the play about the legend of the Shepherds?” Sorey asked, watching as the four other children on stage moved to bow before the girl with the wooden sword. A boy then approached the girl to drape a white cloak over her shoulders.

There was a pause, and Sorey sensed Lailah’s hesitation, barely discernible above the crowd chatter; her brows were creased ever-so-slightly, as if she was wrestling with a decision of sorts. But soon she was all smiles again, and she replied brightly, “It’s a re-telling of the appearance of a young hero. A hero who wished—out of the pureness of her own heart—to carry on a promise to a dear friend, and to help cleanse the world of malevolence.”

“Her?” Mikleo glanced at the fire seraph, before his eyes widened in understanding, his lips curved into a fond grin. “Ah, I take it they mean Rose?”

“The details change off and on, depending on who gets to write the script,” Lailah said, chuckling softly into her hands, pointing towards a girl standing a little way off beside the makeshift stage. “I believe this year it was little Mairead’s turn as stage director, and this happens to be her favourite version of the legend.”

“Well, it’s still a tremendous step up from the festival five years back when the playwright named the Shepherd _Slay._ Much to little Meebo’s immense chagrin.” Edna added helpfully, darting a smirk at Sorey. “It’s all sorts of amusing, really, that they had so obviously misspelled your name.”

“I wasn’t _that_ annoyed, you know,” Mikleo groused, even as he crinkled his nose in obvious disfavour. “It’s just that... ‘Slay’ is such an unfitting name, especially for one as gentle a person as Sorey. It didn’t help that their portrayal of the Shepherd was too reckless and too meddlesome in war.”

Beside him, Zaveid let out a hearty chuckle, patting the water seraph on the back in an attempt to placate him. “Can you really blame the kids though? Most accounts of the Shepherd in stories are still highly romanticised. They’re almost always about Shepherds running off to slay monsters and dragons because that’s what’s entertaining to humans. So it’s no surprise that particular name stuck. And no offense, Sorey”—the old seraph turned and leaned close to rest an elbow on Sorey’s left shoulder—"but your name _is_ a little weird.”

Sorey couldn’t help but laugh, before he returned his gaze to the stage once again, and at Mairead, who was standing close by the side, almost unnoticeable in the sea of people surrounding her. She was staring up at the stage intently, her eyes fixed upon the actors and her lips moving soundlessly as she mouthed every single line with an intensity that matched her gaze. Sitting at her feet upon its hunches was a brown puppy no older than six moons, its furry tail swishing left-right-left, its tongue lolling out from the heat of the day.

Mairead’s name did not strike him as unique. It was a common enough name and he’d seen it several times in books he’d read, but something about the girl and her pup touched him. He frowned, thinking, searching. There was a similar memory ( _an incident?_ ) once, long ago—he was sure of this. And yet... try as he might to recall the memory, it would not surface.

“Mairead!”

The sound of another voice drew Sorey out of his thoughts. He shooked his head, lifting his head once more, and saw Mairead now standing at the foot of the stage. It seemed that the play had ended and the crowd was now slowly dispersing away. The actress who had pulled out the wooden sword ran down the steps towards Mairead, her white cloak whirling about behind her from the movement. She was grinning widely as she grasped Mairead’s hand, rocking back and forth on her heels in excitement.

Sorey watched in mild amusement at the exchange that followed between the girls:

“How did I do this time, Mairead? I never thought I’d feel so nervous performing on a stage!”

“I’d say you were practically stealing the show,” Mairead chuckled. “Not that you don’t already do so on a daily basis. Right, Princess Raea?”

_Princess?_ Sorey wondered, before he was visited again by a rush of emotions, a glimpse of a memory—

_The young knight stood strong and proud before her people, her countenance set with a radiant smile; her eyes the luminous green of pastures in summer and her long wheat-blonde hair worn in beautiful curls_ —

The actress, Princess Raea, only giggled and nudged an elbow into her friend’s ribs. “You’re such a tease, Mairead, I swear. Now, be _honest_. Was I awful? Did I miss any lines?” She brushed a hand anxiously over the front of her cloak.

Mairead shook her head, her eyes gleaming dreamily. “You were _perfect_ , Raea. When you finally pull out the Sacred Blade in the Sanctuary some day and become a real Shepherd Princess, I’m going to be your Squire. Then we’ll finally be able to go see all the amazing sights those wandering seraphim told us about!”

Raea chuckled again. “And what if _you’re_ the one who pulls out the Sacred Blade?”

“Then you’ll have to be _my_ Squire and travel with me, won’t you?”

“Indeed, I will! Wherever you go, Mairead, I’ll come too. Even if it means disobeying Father’s wishes!”

The girls dissolved into peals of laughter once more, embracing each other tightly, before running off together.

“Princess Raea is the youngest daughter in Ladylake’s royal family.” He heard Lailah’s voice and her steady steps as she approached him, watching the girls’ retreating backs with a soft smile. “She’s a descendent of the Diphda line, a prominent lineage in Hyland’s Royal family for many centuries. The most renowned of them was, of course, Alisha Diphda—or Alisha the Smiling, as she came to be known by the people. She was the princess knight who was once our good friend and who also served as your first Squire.”

“Alisha Diphda... Alisha the Smiling,” Sorey repeated the name again, slowly, feeling the weight of the earlier memory in every syllable ( _was that her, the knight with the grass-blade-green eyes and blonde curls?_ ).

He could find no other recollection of Alisha, however; her name seemed so foreign to him, even though he understood that she must have been another dear friend to him, an important figure in a life now long past.

“May I ask a favour of you, Lailah?” he asked after a bout of silent rumination. They had begun to move again, following her lead. “Could you tell me more about the other humans who had travelled with me? Alisha and—” He paused, inhaling deeply as another face— _the girl from his dreams, her voice haunting and screaming, as blue lightning flashed all around them, and throbbing pain —_came to mind, drifting up from the nebulous haze. Blinking, he shook his head to clear the dull throbbing in his right eye; they were surrounded by such merry cacophony from the festival that it was almost jarring.

( _And yet, it was also easier to ignore the ache, to push it aside for now._ )

Sorey felt Mikleo shifting beside him, sensed his friend’s gaze upon him, but he could not quite bring himself to meet the unvoiced concern in those violet eyes. Pulling a faint smile, he lifted his gaze to nod at Lailah instead.

“Alisha and Rose. Those were their names, right? The ones who were once my Squires?”

The fire seraph studied him wordlessly for a moment, before she nodded in understanding, returning his smile. She linked her arm around his once more, steering him from the crowd and down another path.

“Allow me then,” she said cheerfully, “to show you around the Diphda mansion and perhaps we’ll be able to seek your answers there.”  


*****

The Diphda mansion, by all historic accounts, had stood mostly unchanged for the past two hundred years. Like the Great Sanctuary shrine, it was one of the many archaic buildings that stood out amidst the white and cream modern architecture of the Nobles' district. And much like the Sanctuary, Sorey was greeted with a sense of tranquility the moment he strode past the gates.

Lailah continued to lead the way, guiding the group across the courtyard and into the huge mansion itself. She spoke animatedly of the many generations who had resided in the mansion, before the late Queen had turned it into a private museum instead to commemorate Alisha the Smiling and her descendants’ many deeds throughout the decades.

As he paced through the grand hallways, studying the decor and the various portraits of the Diphda line that hung upon the wall, Sorey was struck with wonder. This was a home that had seen the coming and passing of many lives, and with it the abundance of emotions that had mourned and celebrated those lives. It was overall a happy home and that thought set him at ease, even though he knew nothing about the families save from what he could discern from around him.

The tiny band of seraphim stepped through polished oak doors and into what looked to be a huge study room. Lailah was already standing before the brick hearth, beckoning Sorey to her side. He followed her gaze, turning his eyes to the two huge paintings that hung over the fireplace.

The first was a painting of a wedding—he recognised the bride as the same young knight he’d seen in his brief flashback. She was dressed in a beautiful laced white gown, adorned with a simple pearl necklace and earrings, and with pink flowers weaved into her long blonde curls. Beside her stood a tall and dignified man, resplendent in his suit of crimson and silver. Above them hung the heraldic banners of the Two Kingdoms – the black and red of Rolance fluttering gently alongside the blue and gold of Hyland.

“Princess Alisha never ascended the throne in her lifetime, but she was still very much adored by the people of Hyland like a queen,” Lailah began, her eyes still trained on the portrait. “She was greatly respected by many in Rolance as well, even before her political marriage to the Captain of the Platinum Knights, Sergei Strelka. Both of them had worked extremely hard to negotiate a treaty through difficult times, and they were lauded for their role in upholding the peace and cementing a lasting alliance between the Two Kingdoms.”

“A political marriage?” Sorey inquired. “Were they happy though, at least?”

“Alisha and Sergei saw each other as equals and pillars of support—two knights who shared the same ideals of peace and unity between their countries. It might have been recorded as a political marriage as part of the peace treaty, but they both genuinely loved each other dearly. And while they were happily married and bore many children together, there are many forms of love as well besides the ones between princesses and knights...”

The fire seraph smiled then, and Sorey could hear the affection growing in her voice when she turned towards the second portrait. It was another portrait of Alisha, this time in a regal coral dress, her wavy hair worn loose. Standing beside her was another young lady, who was leaning forward with one arm slung over the princess’ shoulders, her lips curved into a grin as playful and as bright as the azure blue of her eyes. She was dressed in simple travelling clothes (a tunic, pants and sturdy boots), and the only ornaments she wore were two gold clasps in her flame-red hair. The cloak that hung around her shoulders was one that Sorey quickly recognised—its pure-white base and embroidered thorn and circle motifs in black trimmings were that of a Shepherd’s mantle.

“Alisha loved Rose as dearly as she did her husband, and the two remained as beloved friends throughout their years together.”

Sorey tapped a finger against his jaw, considering Lailah’s words. “Rose was my second Squire, right? And the Shepherd after me? What was it like for her after... when she took up the mantle instead?”

“She was your successor in that regard, yes. And as for her life as a Shepherd... Well, it was challenging at the beginning – as most things are – but Rose had always been very adaptable.” Lailah was chuckling fondly now. “You could say she took to it like fish to water.”

Mikleo, who had been hovering close beside them and listening, only let out a soft sigh. He shook his head, lips quirked into a fond smile. “More like she charged head-along into it, like a miniature whirlwind. She was just determined like that.”

“Indeed, she was,” Lailah agreed, hiding another laugh behind a hand.

“Did she ever marry and had a family?” Sorey asked.

Lailah shook her head. “Rose, true to herself, never married. She was far from lonely, however. She may have been on the road a lot, but she was always surrounded by the ones she cherished and trusted, and she was vivacious even up to her old age.”

“Part of our little lady Shepherd’s charm,” Zaveid chimed from where he’d been leaning against the windowsill, eyes still fixed at the scenery outside. He glanced back at his companions with an easy grin. “We’re alike that way. People like us, we choose to roam free and heed only to the voice of the wind.”

From her selected spot in the room—a cosy armchair beside an old mouldy bookcase—Edna was already pulling a look of disdain, brows creased in annoyance. “There he goes again, turning everything back to himself.”

Mikleo nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Rose wasn’t like you – she was fiercely independent. You’re just flighty.”

“Also disgusting,” Edna added helpfully with a nasty smile.

At the sudden slew of accusations, Zaveid raised both arms up over himself, as if to shield himself from the glares the two were directing his way.

“Sheesh, you two sure aren’t pulling any punches now, are you? When you work in tandem like this, even a seasoned old seraph like me doesn’t stand a chance!”

“It sure takes the wind out of one’s sails, doesn’t it?” Lailah quipped, before she gasped, her eyes growing wide when she caught sight of Zaveid’s betrayed expression at her. “Oh, I’m sorry, Zaveid! I had not meant for it to come out that way.”

Sorey laughed despite himself, but he knew the wind seraph enough by now to understand how his banter went with his other companions. Seeing all these people who were seemingly distant and indifferent on the surface, but were tied together by a deeper sense of camaraderie and a bond forged a lifetime ago – he found some comfort in that.

(And yet... he alone could not recall these bonds, could not feel the strength of it...)

He shook his head— _not yet, not here; this isn’t the time for it_ – and beamed brightly instead.

“Seems like Rose had a fulfilling life with everyone, even out on the road. I’m really glad to hear it.”

They spent the remainder of the afternoon ambling through parts of the mansion, with Lailah showing off more portraits and statues of Alisha and Sergei’s children, and of their children’s children. Sorey listened in quiet fascination when the other seraphim began exchanging tales of their human companions, reminiscing fondly of incidents that had stayed with them. There had been so much laughter, tears and heartache shared between them all, it was almost a wonder they could remember some of these incidents so vividly even after all these centuries, and—

(And even though he knew, deep, deep down, it was through no fault of his own doing, he felt it still; _the slightest pang of envy, the painful twinge of guilt —_)

When they had glimpsed what they could, the group headed outside once again. Instead of crossing the courtyard to the gated entrance, Lailah led them to an enclosed plot of land located behind the mansion. As they walked through the iron gates, Sorey noticed the small stone shrines erected on either side of the gateway with offerings—hand-rolled rice balls wrapped and placed in a basket weaved from dried leaves—for seraphim, in return for their blessings to keep the land fortified and pure.

Sorey trailed after Lailah, treading softly upon the dewy blades of grass. The ground was misty with the white florets of dandelions; tiny specks of filament burst free from the stems each time he brushed through the grass, and caught by the cool spring breeze, was buffeted up to the endlessness of the painted sky above them. Before long, he soon found himself standing in the shade of a single birch tree and before a grave much bigger than the others in the burial ground.

Alisha and Sergei’s graves were not as decorated as some of the ancient burial mounds he had come across in his early journeys through the mountains after his awakening. If he had not heard of their history from Lailah, Sorey might not have guessed it was a grave built for a respected captain of the royal guard and for a much beloved princess of the people. Still, they were hardly modest—the engravings etched upon the weathered headstones were skillfully crafted; the marble gleamed a rich creamy-white underneath the dried earth that Mikleo was now carefully polishing away with the sleeve of his tunic; and the muted gold lettering was lit in an incandescent glow whenever slivers of the setting sun fell upon it.

He was still studying the graves when Edna abruptly moved forward and he noticed, for the first time, the small bunch of flowers she held in one hand (had she procured them earlier from one of the many flower stalls that lined the streets? Sorey wasn’t sure). The flowers were small and white, with a yellow centre and a bright pink tinge around the edges of each petal. He watched as Edna carefully placed the flowers into a stained-glass jar beside the headstones, before he felt Lailah’s gaze upon him. It wasn’t until he had glanced up—first at the fire seraph’s kind and encouraging smile, and then at Mikleo’s reassuring nod—that Sorey felt prepared to step closer and kneel beside the water seraph right before the graves.

“Hello, Alisha, Sergei,” he said softly. He lifted a hand to brush against the weathered marble plaque, feeling the grainy texture of the headstone against his palm. “It seems that we never really got the chance to bid each other a proper farewell, did we? I can’t even really be certain of that. It’s been so very long, and I don’t remember most of the past...”

He paused, thinking back to the brief flash of memory that had visited him, to all the portraits and statues of Hyland’s beloved Princess Knight and her family, and those who’d served her throughout her lustrous lifetime. And it came to him then, with sudden clarity, that though he retained no memory of Alisha or Sergei, he still felt genuine relief and joy to know that Alisha had lived a long, fulfilling life surrounded by all that she loved and by people—both human and seraphim—who had returned the love a hundredfold.  
  
_I wish I could have recalled your voices, your laughter, and what they had meant to me at least;_ it was what he’d wanted to say, as a multitude of regrets rested at the tip of his tongue, his features traced with a shade of guilt.

_(It isn’t your fault, it’s the way of things, of rebirth; but still, but still —_)  
  
Instead, he exhaled slowly, pulling a gentle smile. He reached towards a cluster of wild flowers growing within arm’s reach by the grave, selecting the brightest one.

“Even so,” he continued, adding the single yellow flower to Edna’s bundle in the jar. “I’m really glad to be able to learn about you and Sergei all over again.”

He would have stayed a little longer before the grave in silent reflection, but there was already a strange tingling sensation in his right foot, that was slowly creeping up along the whole of his right leg. Without thinking, Sorey let out a surprised gasp, flailing and shifting his weight to his left side. He stretched out his right leg to ease the uncomfortable numbness and the ripple of pins-and-needles prickling all over his skin. In doing so, he would have very nearly tipped over the jar of flowers with his hand – had Mikleo not hastily reached out in time to steady it.

_"Sorey,"_ Mikleo let out a long-suffering sigh, before he chided lightly, “please, be more _careful._ ”

The sudden flurry of movement from the two young seraphim had the others break into a chorus of amused murmurs and laughter, just as the green boughs above them began rustling lazily in the evening breeze. For the barest of moments, Sorey thought he could almost hear another, softer voice laughing alongside them, the sound of falling blossoms— _a young knight with the radiant smile and blade-green eyes —_ringing in his ears.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- #Let Alisha & Sergei be loved and celebrated by the people 2k17.
> 
> \- [Solar-powered hydroponic farming](http://www.truth-out.org/speakout/item/35885-solar-powered-hydroponics-could-be-the-future-of-agriculture) seems to be the future of argricultue and I can sort of see it being a common thing for a steampunk/solarpunk Glenwood. It's relatively eco-friendly and energy-efficient (reduces carbon emissions) and space-conscious. I imagine [skyfarming](http://www.rsh-p.com/projects/skyfarm/#) could also be A Thing for urban areas/populated cities like Ladylake where there are land constraints. Even one of those sky towers or [food belts](http://inhabitat.com/oaxis-project-aims-to-green-the-entire-arabian-peninsula-with-a-solar-powered-hydroponic-food-belt/) in arid terrain/deserts could probably feed a number of towns/villages.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music inspiration for this scene: [a drop filled with memories](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tMjRtsM0oJ0)

* * *

 

  **~.*.~**

 

**ix.**

 

“So, I guess this is where we’ll have to part ways,” Sorey said somewhat sadly.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t already expected it. After all, it was only at Rayfalke that Zaveid and Edna had decided to join Sorey’s group, when he and Mikleo had discussed about visiting Lailah in Ladylake. And Lailah, bound as she was by her oath and her duty as Prime Lord, would remain in the Capital until the appearance of a new Shepherd. Sorey was aware of it all, of course, and understood that they would all have to tread their own paths eventually. Still, the youngest seraph could not help but feel a twinge of sadness; he’d grown fond of their company and knew he would miss them.

They had spent the last couple of days in Ladylake. He and Mikleo had been keen to see more of the festivities, and to explore the rest of the Aquapolis. Their companions had not seemed to mind either, despite Edna’s good-natured grumbles of having to spend her precious hours “babysitting overgrown children”. In fact, they looked like they had enjoyed themselves. Sorey could see it in the way their eyes shone, in their shared laughter whenever they regaled him with stories of their adventures alongside Shepherd Rose throughout Glenwood. It was exhilarating to hear about how these people—his friends, new and re-found—had lived on to the fullest while he had slumbered. That while time had halted for him, they hadn’t allowed themselves to be shackled forever by the sacrifices and grief they surely must have endured to defeat the Lord of Calamity, and for the hope of a better world to come.

_And you? Where do you go from here? Are you really the Shepherd —_ _no, the Sorey they remembered?_

( _What if you never were —_)

“Sorey?” Lailah’s soft voice cut through his reverie then. He blinked away the myriad of images ( _memories?_ ) swirling before him and glanced up to meet her gaze. She studied him for a few silent moments, looking as though she’d wanted to speak, to voice her concern about something. But her worried expression was quickly replaced with a gentle smile; she reached for his hands instead, squeezing them lightly in reassurance.

“I must admit, a good part of me wishes that I could travel alongside you with Mikleo, just like how we’ve done before. But my place is here in Ladylake, as my vessel is the Sacred Blade itself enshrined in the Sanctuary.” She pulled him closer, embracing him tightly before she turned towards Mikleo and hugged him as well. “Please do come by and visit again, whenever you can. I will miss both of you dearly.”  
  
“We’ll miss you too, Lailah,” Mikleo returned her smile when they’ve pulled apart. “And we promise we’ll come visit every once in awhile.”

The group bade their farewells to the fire seraph and slowly made their way towards the iron gates leading out of the Capital.  
  
“I might have gone along with you two as well,” Edna said at length, once they were past the gates and strolling onto the bridge. “But I don’t feel too comfortable being away from the Spiritcrest any longer than I should. You never know when a silly human on some whimsical grand adventure to scale mountain peaks would stray off the marked path and find themselves in a whole lot of trouble.” She exhaled deeply, as though she found the mere thought of it exhausting. “It might seem a bit gloomy to many, but Rayfalke is still my home and domain. And I’d like to keep it untainted by human stupidity and regrets.”

Sorey only grinned sheepishly in agreement. From the corner of his eye, he saw Zaveid sauntering up beside him to rest an arm on his right shoulder.

“Unfortunately, I’ll be taking my leave as well once we’ve crossed this bridge,” he quipped. “I’ll escort our darling Edna back to Rayfalke and make sure she gets home safe. Then I’ll be on my own way too—I’ve got other important things to attend to elsewhere. As it is, I’m probably already late by two weeks or so.”

Beside them, Mikleo was flicking his gaze over the old seraph in surprise. “ _Two weeks?_ That’s about the whole time you’ve been travelling with us after we first met on the air-ship! Why didn’t you say something when we were heading to Ladylake? You could have gone ahead of us and not be late for your appointment!”

“Must have slipped my mind, I guess,” Zaveid shrugged, unperturbed. “I’ve been having so much fun hanging out with you guys, I almost forgot about boring stuff like appointments—oh, _relax_ Mikster! You know how it is with us old farts and time. Everything just feels like a giant blur of events after a while.”

“I can only pity whoever is it that made an appointment with you then,” Mikleo said, sighing in slight disapproval. “They would be waiting anywhere from two weeks to twenty years at least.”

Zaveid chuckled heartily, waving a hand dismissively. “Nah, he’s almost as bad as I am with these things. And still, our paths manage to intersect at some point. That’s the way of the wind—it guides our feet wherever we tread, until we find each other again.” He spared a glance at Sorey, before turning back to fix the water seraph with wink and a knowing grin. “Ain’t that right, Mikleo?”

Mikleo let out another weary sigh, and then a soft laugh, as if in agreement. Sorey still wasn’t sure what _guidance from the wind_ meant, but if Mikleo didn’t seem as ruffled as he usually was with Zaveid’s frivolous replies, then...

They crossed the last few steps of the bridge over onto the mainland. Zaveid slung both arms over the two young seraphim’s shoulders, much to Phoenix’s disgust, who was curled comfortably on Sorey’s left side (the normin swiftly hopped down to the grass before them, darting a cold glare up at the wind seraph). The old seraph drew them close for a crushing farewell hug, chuckling obnoxiously as he gave Sorey’s hair one last friendly tousle before he stepped a little way off to the side.

While Lailah and Zaveid had been generous with their good-bye hugs, Edna chose the only way she preferred to bid her farewells—by staring up at Mikleo with a haughty smile.

"Try to stay in one piece when you're falling down traps, all right, Meebo?” she said, prodding him playfully in the ribs with her closed parasol. “I'd ask Sorey to keep an eye out for you but knowing him, he'll just jump straight in after you.”

“Ah, what’s this?” Mikleo quirked an eyebrow in mock surprise, before he grinned impishly back at her. “Is this _actual_ concern I detect from you, Edna? Don’t worry, I’ll keep sending those letters to you so you won’t feel too lonesome — _o_ _w!_ ” He jumped when he felt her prod the tip of her parasol into his foot.

“No thanks, Meebo.” She turned her face away, lips already curled in distaste. “You can save your bawdy love sonnets for Sorey—I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“You write sonnets, Mikleo?” Sorey quipped from where he’d been crouching low to the ground, so that Phoenix could hop back up onto his shoulder. His eyes were glimmering in awe at the water seraph now.  
  
“T-They’re _not_ love sonnets!” Mikleo bristled, cheeks flushed crimson. “They are logs of my expeditions to the various ruins I’ve been re-visiting. I’m hoping to add some updates and revisions to the current volume of the Celestial Records. That’s all it is.”  
  
“That’s what they all say,” Edna only chanted in an irksome singsong voice, basking in his discomfort a little too much. Ignoring Mikleo’s indignant protests, she turned towards Sorey, lips twitched into the slightest of smiles. “Be sure to come visit me at Rayfalke again, okay? When you and Meebo are done gallivanting all over the place and enjoying your honeymoon, that is.”

Sorey grinned, reaching out for her hand so that he could curl his littlest finger fondly around hers in a gesture of promise. “Of course we will.”

“You’d better. Otherwise, this”—Edna nudged him teasingly in the ribs with her elbow and youngest seraph jumped, startled, even as he laughed—“is what you’ll be getting as punishment for keeping your older sister worried and waiting.”

He raised his arm in a final farewell to Edna and Zaveid, watching as the they made their way towards the mountain looming ahead, their steps echoing behind them long after they had disappeared under the eaves of the forest.

*****

Their journey through the Aroundight forest was a pensive one. After being on the trail for weeks in the company of old friends, it seemed strangely mellow now that their party was down to just three. However, despite missing the liveliness and cheer the older seraphim had brought with them, Sorey did not stay disheartened for long—having Mikleo as a constant by his side now was comforting, and felt as natural to him as breathing was. Even when there was a lull in their conversations, it was a comfortable sort of silence that they shared as they walked alongside each other, falling into a rhythm that was achingly evocative of a shared past and yet so tentatively new at the same time.  
  
Well, most times anyway. Sorey didn’t miss the way Mikleo had glanced over him during these moments of silence with furrowed brows. The water seraph looked like he was trying to formulate his thoughts and readying himself to speak, only to catch himself before the words ( _...doubts?_ ) emerged. Perhaps at other times, Sorey might have been compelled to gently prompt his friend to air his thoughts. But he was lost in his own bouts of introspection, reflecting over the knowledge gained during this journey of discovery—of his previous life, of the lives of old friends he’d supposedly touched once centuries ago. Of the flash of images, coalescing in the dark, that still visited him between the borders of waking and dreaming.

(Were they things he’d remembered from his days as a Shepherd? Would he ever be able to tell—which were real experiences, which were fanciful dreams his mind had conjured up in a desperate bid to fill in those blanks?)

To distract himself from delving further into these morose thoughts, Sorey eventually turned his focus upon his artes instead. They were showered with a bout of brisk, light rain in the late afternoon—perfect for a young lightning seraph to experiment with his control over charged particles in the damp, humid air.

Being young and inexperienced to the elements as he was, there was little he could do at first, beyond learning to charge up some energy and channelling it outwards through his hands. But with some guidance from Phoenix and after several failed attempts, he soon managed to conjure up tiny flashes of blue light, manipulating them into pulsating orbs of energy within his palms. If he concentrated long and hard enough, he could will the orbs into a full bolt of energy that could dance forth from his palms and towards their intended target.

Encouraged by this new skill, he continued practising the trick even after they’d stopped to rest for the evening beside a small stream. Laying on his back, Sorey watched the stars above winking into existence against the velvet backdrop of the night sky. With his arm stretched out before him, he mapped out what constellations he recognised, tracing the points with each spark of brilliant blue that flashed from his fingers.

*****

Rose was interred in a simple grave, marked only with a weather-worn headstone, and protected by several ancient spells that Mikleo and the older seraphim had weaved around it during her burial, to keep it unmarred from desecration. Her grave stood at the edge of a crag dotted with blooming white flowers, atop a ridge of mountains that edged the forest. The crag was one of many rock formations that jutted out to overlook the scenic stretch of flora below, which was bordered on each side by two crystal-blue lakes. It was said that the smaller lakes had once been a single large lake that had filled the entire basin of the valley below them.

“And according to volume XXVII of the Celestial Records, it was there, in the decaying remnants of Artorius’ Throne, that the final cataclysmic battle between the Lord of Calamity and a young Shepherd took place,” Phoenix said solemnly, balanced on Sorey’s shoulder. “It was said that theirs was so fierce a battle that a great rumbling—enough to rend the skies apart and to cleave the earth in two—could be heard from leagues away. Once the battle was over, Artorius’ Throne was no more, having collapsed into the unending depths below. All that was left was a brilliant pillar of white light blazing forth to pierce through the darkness and to purify the sky and land once again. Or so the legend goes.”

Sorey swept his gaze over the landscape, feeling the cold kiss of the spring breeze against his face and ruffling through his hair. He recognised parts of the crumbling stone architecture, the cavernous ruins in the valley below, and the tall grass he’d strode through many moons ago—it was there he’d emerged from his long slumber.

“Rose had stood here, watching you fall away along with Heldalf when Artorius’ Throne shook itself apart,” Mikleo said from beside him, his gaze trained upon the ruins as well. “She was also the first person to see the pillar of light—yours and Maotelus’—rising from the dark. She had wanted to be laid to rest here, at this very spot where she had last seen you. I think it was her way of keeping your memory alive, of keeping you close to her heart in her last moments.” Mikleo paused, falling silent again. He smiled gently, a touch of bittersweet wistfulness shadowed over his features now. “She... She missed you dearly, you know. She thought of you often, even after many, many years.”

Seeing the expression upon his friend’s face made Sorey’s heart clench in momentary sadness as well. “And I can see you miss her too, Mikleo – she was just as much your friend as she was Shepherd Sorey’s, right?”

“She was indeed.” Mikleo’s smile grew wider. “I can’t help but think of her often too, and all things we’ve done together. It’s been a long time, but I don’t think I could ever not feel the ache that comes with missing her.”

“She sounds quite the character, from the stories you’ve all shared with me. I wish...” Sorey faltered, before he eased himself down on the grass before Rose’s headstone. The memory of the flashing blue light and a girl’s screams—it was _Rose’s_ screams, he knew this now —had danced faintly in his mind’s eye earlier. There was still a painful twist in his gut whenever the memories flared up, but the intensity had dulled somewhat at least, even if the throbbing in his right eye seemed more constant now.

“I just wish I could remember more than these flashes of emotion I don’t quite understand,” he finished sadly.

Mikleo sat down beside him, shifting closer so that their knees were brushing. Even Phoenix seemed sombre when he hopped down to the ground, to pluck at a few stalks of wild flowers which he then laid over the grave in silent respect.

“A wise old seraph in Ladylake once told me, emotions run like the river. Calm on some days, turbulent on other days,” Mikleo began gently, after a moment’s silence. “You have to let it run its course, to experience the swell and the pain sometimes, but just like the river, it’ll return back to its size again after the flood.” He brushed his palm lightly over the cluster of small ferns around them. “It sounds a lot easier to do than it really is, of course. But having had to experience something similar in the past, I do understand where you’re coming from, Sorey. It’s all right to be frustrated and confused now. But just as Zaveid had said before, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, as well.”

“Little Meebo is right,” Phoenix said, glancing up at Sorey. If the normin had noticed the water seraph’s scowl at his sudden use of the nickname, he didn’t show it. “The memories are always confusing at first; it is the way of rebirth, and it’s through no fault of your own if you do not understand them yet. Besides, you’re a seraph now – you have all the time to learn about yourself and to explore the world around you.” The normin offered him kind smile. “So, fret not, little one—all things in good time.”

Sorey felt immense gratitude at the two, for their encouragement and kindness. He brushed the back of his nape sheepishly and managed a tiny smile, feeling very much like a foolish youngling.

“You’re right. I’m being silly about these things again, aren’t I?”

Mikleo only fixed him with an affectionate grin. “It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

  
*****

As Sorey still felt slight lethargy from their trek through the forest (he had never travelled to so many locations within a handful weeks before his reunion with Mikleo, and he was starting to feel the exertion of constant travel within his joints now), they decided to spend the night camped out in the clearing a few paces away from Rose’s grave. The night sky was cloudless, and hinted at no threat of rain from the previous day. The two young seraphim settled themselves comfortably under the shade of a lone tree. With Phoenix curled cat-like upon his lap and Mikleo resting against the tree trunk beside him, Sorey found himself easily drifting off to sleep.

*****

He was still deep in slumber through the quietest hour of night, when suddenly—

_Rose’s angry outburst, white-hot pain inflicted upon them each time a bolt of lightning struck; a child’s shrill, mocking laughter ringing in his ears when the man_ – De… Rose! –   _was pierced right through, his body (their body) now hanging limp and bloody_ —

Sorey bolted awake, inhaling sharply as he blinked, disoriented. The dream was already receding back into the folds, droplets of memories trickling through sand. But he could still feel, hear—the soft frantic thumping of his heart, the ghostly whispers of distress in his ears....

“Sorey?” Mikleo murmured, stirring groggily beside him. “What is it?”

“It was...” He exhaled softly, trying to even out his breathing, to steady the fluttering sensation within his ribcage. “I— It was just a strange dream, that’s all.”

But Mikleo was already sitting up and glancing over him with deep concern, forehead creased into a frown.

“There’s been a lot on your mind, hasn’t there? Something’s been bothering you ever since we left Ladylake.”

And it struck him then, that Mikleo had been casting him those troubled glances during their trek through the forest because the water seraph had been worried for _him —_he had always been the first to lapse into a deep silence for a length of time, after all, caught in the intertwined web of knowledge, memories and dreams.

“I-It’s nothing, really—” Sorey said, injecting as much cheerful reassurance as he could muster into his voice. But Mikleo was already tensing, his features pinched with that _look._ The same intense look that said he knew Sorey was edging away from the question, and retreating behind a mask of smiles.

They held each other’s gaze wordlessly for only a moment, before Mikleo’s expression finally softened. The water seraph let out a quiet sigh, dropping his gaze.

“We don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t really want to. But Sorey... If there’s something bothering you—and I can tell there is—please, let me know. I want to be able to help, if I can, or least offer some form of support. Please don’t let yourself shoulder the burden all alone.”

With no one around to deflect the issue (Phoenix was still curled up comfortably and sound asleep on his lap), Sorey couldn’t find any reason to avoid it any longer. He met Mikleo’s penetrating gaze with a hesitant smile, searching for the right words to describe the jumble of images and emotions... Mikleo would understand, he was almost certain of this. But when he saw the expectant look upon his friend’s face, he paused again; he was reminded of the sadness in Zaveid, Edna and Lailah’s features when they’d realised he did not remember their past...

_No. Not yet, not everything —_ _I need to keep trying._

He pushed that unvoiced fear back, keeping it tucked away for now and settled for another more immediate concern—the dream that had just jolted him awake. He found his mind wandering back to the odd hat that Zaveid always had balanced over his swirl of wind-blown hair.

“It’s just...” Sorey began, trying to articulate it as best as he could. “There was another, wasn’t there? Another seraph who had travelled with us when I was a Shepherd. I can’t recall any names or faces, but it’s a feeling that I’ve had for a while. Like a mental itch that’s always out of reach whenever I try to grasp at it.” He shook his head, nursing at the side of his temple with a hand.  “And I keep drifting back to Zaveid’s hat, the one he’s always wearing. I’m not sure why though. Maybe I really have just been over-thinking it... Mikleo?”

The water seraph had turned away, tensing up again; Sorey sensed a sudden wave of sorrow and a tinge of shame washing over his friend then.

“Mikleo?” he ventured again tentatively.

It took a few more heartbeats of silence before Mikleo finally spoke, his voice strained.

“I had hoped that we’d never need to have this conversation about Dezel’s passing, if only to keep you from the pain of his loss. I had even asked Lailah and the others not to mention it because I thought it might be for the best. But now I realise that perhaps it isn’t quite the best decision, since you seem to be able to recall the emotions first, even before the memories resurface.” He lifted his head to meet Sorey’s gaze, a rueful look within his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sorey. I was wrong for trying to keep this from you, even though you had already decided to learn all you could about the past.”

Sorey turned his thoughts back to Zaveid’s odd hat again, and this time, the faint glimmer of an unknown face came to him, one that had worn a similar looking hat once—another wind seraph whose eyes were hidden under a shock of unruly hair, whose features seemed sullen and grim. But amidst the shroud of sombreness, there were sparks of something brighter as well— _a wry grin, a toothy chuckle; a conversation about beetles and moths..._

He shook his head. “You were looking out for me, and I’m always grateful for it. But I also don’t want to be kept in the dark, no matter how much knowing the truth might hurt.” He nodded back at Mikleo, prompting him to continue. “Tell me more about Dezel—who he was, how he lived and died. I want to know, please.”

*****

It was a difficult conversation, for both of them, to revisit and relive the tragedy of a fallen companion, who had been so driven by vengeance that he had been easily provoked into a trap set by one of the Lord of Calamity’s servants, and which had ultimately led to his demise. Sorey could sense Mikleo’s inner turmoil and pain as he shared what he could of Dezel, so he was careful when inquiring for details.

“Maybe it’s too harsh to say that he’d let himself be so consumed by his anger and his need for revenge that it became his own undoing,” Mikleo said, his gaze trained at the stars above them. They were both lying on their backs now, stretched out comfortably over the grass. Phoenix (who had awoken midway through their quiet conversation) had bounded off several metres away to the shrubbery ahead, presumably to forage for honeyberries as a snack, and to allow the two some privacy in their shared sorrow.

“But his desire for revenge had also caused Rose grievous harm, so much so that she’d been at risk of hellionizing herself. There was a part of me that had despaired at Dezel for a time, for allowing himself to be so consumed by his hatred. And yet, at the same time, I still couldn’t quite find it in me to judge him entirely for it. After all, how could I judge the pain and suffering Dezel had carried within him for all those years? He’d watched his closest friend die before his very eyes, before losing his sight and all remnants of his old life. And as much as I hate to admit it...” Mikleo’s voice grew softer, a wane smile creeping over his features. “There’s a very small part of me that understood what it must been like for him too. To lose almost everyone that was dear to you, to feel such deep sorrow that the only thing you felt you could do was to give in to that anger, if only to move forward. To keep yourself from drowning in despair.”

“Even so, the consequences of his actions then were grave,” Sorey said, before he sighed sadly. “And I must have failed my duty as Shepherd too, since I couldn’t prevent him from falling into the trap.”

“The consequences were indeed grave—we’d almost lost Rose because of it. But at the very least Dezel himself was aware of the severity of his mistakes, and that was why he had tried to salvage what he could and sacrificed himself so we could save Rose. As for you failing your duty...” Mikleo turned to face him, his expression a mixture of sadness and mild exasperation. “ _Dezel_ chose to break his pact, chose to throw himself into the fray for vengeance —nothing about that was your fault, Sorey. You certainly didn’t fail your duty as a Shepherd simply because of that. It was a tragic turn of events we’ve all had to endure, and you’re not to blame, _at all_.”

It was difficult to feel otherwise, but Sorey had to concede that Mikleo had a point, especially since he remembered little of the harrowing events surrounding Dezel’s demise save for the dull ache of deep sorrow (which was partly from him empathizing with Mikleo’s grief for their late friend).

“Was Dezel content with his sacrifices in the end?” he asked. He couldn’t fathom what it’d be like, if _he_ had stood at the threshold of death and if his final thoughts were of regrets, of despair.

“I... I can’t say for sure. But Rose believed he did, that he was smiling in the end. And if Rose believed it, it was enough for me to believe as well.” Mikleo said, before he paused again, the silence punctuated only by the soft chirping of crickets around them. “It’s all I could do, really, to honour the memory of a friend, and to learn from his mistakes so I could make better decisions when faced with a loss akin to his own.”

Sorey watched as the sky overhead grew lighter, stained with faint slivers of pink and orange peeking over the horizon. The stars above them flickered, dying candlelight that winked out one by one.

“I wonder if Rose ever gets lonely, being all alone up here on the mountain like this,” he murmured softly.

“It does seem lonesome, being so far away from civilisation. But you know, as strange as it sounds, I don’t think she is. It’s always windy up here and the air is crisp. Just the way she would have liked it.” Mikleo’s lips twitched, his eyes bright. “I think that’s another reason why she’d wanted to be buried here, in the middle of nowhere. Instead of a cemetery or a grand mausoleum in the city. Not just because it overlooked where she last said her farewells to you, but so that she could feel closer to Dezel as well. In any case, Rose is like a bird; you can never keep her locked up too long. As long as there’s a breeze, she’ll always be soaring freely, whether it’s up there alongside Dezel or resounding within our hearts.”

Sorey chuckled, still gazing up at the painted sky. “Thank you, Mikleo, for sharing these memories with me,” he said at length. “It must have been hard to relive those moments again. And I’m sorry—you must have been lonely too, waiting for all those years...”

“I won’t pretend that I wasn’t, but I count myself lucky—I was surrounded by family and friends who watched over me, and made sure to remind me of other things in this world that were just as important and dear to me.” Mikleo fixed him with a wry smile. “And maybe our time apart wasn’t all a bad thing; it gave me a chance to learn and grow, to understand what it truly means to be a seraph. To find myself in ways that wasn’t always tied back to just you alone. I think it’s made a better person out of me, to be honest.”

Sorey nodded in agreement, feeling a sudden rush of deep affection for his friend. “Spoken very much like a true seraph elder indeed. You’ve grown very wise, o Master Mikleo.”

The jibe was worth the long-suffering glare Mikleo was giving him now, one that was quickly replaced by a devious grin.

“If sharing all _that_ makes me a seraph elder, then you, as a baby seraph, should learn some manners!” His friend dove at him before he could move, pushing him down onto the grass. Sorey laughed as he let himself be pinned down, trying to swipe Mikleo’s hands away in retaliation.

*****

By morning, they were ready to set out for Elysia. As Mikleo and Phoenix stood in the clearing, discussing the easiest route to the ancient seraphim village, Sorey knelt by Rose’s grave for one last farewell.

“Thank you, Rose, for everything,” he said, running a hand over the headstone, before laying out his gifts over the grave—a small bundle of wildflowers he’d gathered earlier and tied to a small marble figurine of a bird (which he’d purchased many days ago, from a market stall in Ladylake).

“It’s strange, but I think I already miss you as a friend, even though I don’t recall everything we’ve done together. But I promise, I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep moving forward, just like you did.”

He rose to his feet, and turned, heading to where Mikleo and Phoenix stood waiting for him by the tree. There was a soft twittering from somewhere above him; he saw a flash of brown and red from the corner of his eye, and felt the brush of feathers against his cheek. Surprised, Sorey paused in his steps. Tilting his head to the side, he saw a small robin perched lightly on his shoulder, its ruby-red breast puffed up from the chill of dawn. Before he could move, the robin fluttered away in a whirl of feathers, the trill of its song echoing over the rising breeze, as though to bid him good journeying.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music inspiration for this scene: [the sacrifice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NVaITrUgoP4&feature=youtu.be)
> 
> Many thanks to Namio/Bagel for helping me beta this chapter and the epilogue ❤  
> 

* * *

 

  **~.*.~**

 

**x.  
  
**

**  
** He felt it the moment they left the eaves of the forest—past the crumbling stone monuments that lined the hidden path alongside the sparse trees, up the gentle incline of the mountainside. He paced the last few steps over the short grass, coming to a halt before two stone archways that marked the entrance into Elysia.

The archways were centuries old; despite their weathered and wind-scoured states, there remained still an aura of idyllic majesty to them. Enthralled, Sorey turned his gaze from the lichen that grew around the base and up along the towering columns instead, marvelling at the distinctive coloured motifs engraved in stone. He closed his eyes, feeling a shiver of nervous anticipation down his spine, a tingle of emotions all at once: apprehension, sorrow and a yearning he hadn’t felt since the first time he’d awoken in the cavern alone with Phoenix and Maotelus. And beneath the yearning, there were other emotions as well—an underlying sense of elation, contentment and... _love?_ He knew without understanding how or why that this place was home.

Mikleo had already moved several paces ahead and was glancing back expectantly at him. Sorey slowly released the breath he hadn’t realise he’d been holding, and moved past the archways, towards what looked to be a peaceful seraphim village shrine. Their arrival had not been missed; he could see some of the residents peering curiously out of their stone houses, gathering in a small circle towards them.

“l’m home. Sorry for being away so long,” Mikleo announced to the approaching villagers, his usually stoic expression now crinkled with quiet joy. Sorey caught a flash of movement from the edges of his vision, a blur of lavender and white. A young girl ( _a seraph..._ _no, a human child?_ ) had dashed forward from the crowd and was flinging herself at Mikleo, arms latched around the water seraph’s torso in a tight hug.

“You’re late, Mikleo! What took you so long this time? Everyone’s missed you so!” She pulled away, before glancing shyly up at Sorey with wide, curious eyes. “Who’s your new friend? Oh, oh, is that a normin? I’ve never seen one up-close before. It’s adorable!”

Phoenix only gave a snort from where he was perched on Sorey’s shoulder. He hopped down onto the short grass, tiny arms crossed over his chest as he glared reproachfully at the girl.

“Adorable, she says. Hah! That’s where you are greatly mistaken. I am not adorable; I am Phoenix, the greatest among normin. You do well to remember that... hey, wha—! Unhand me, unworthy human!”

“He sounds so silly,” the girl giggled, lifting the normin up so she could hug him close to her chest. “I like him already.”

“Don’t tease him too much, Sofie,” Mikleo said, raising a hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide his amusement. “And I’m sorry for being away a lot longer this time. There had been a few unexpected detours along the way...” He glanced back at Sorey, the corners of his lips curved into a smile, before he turned towards Sofie and the gathered villagers again, some of whom had also moved to greet him with hearty embraces.

One of villagers—a seraph with hair that reminded Sorey of the sapphire waters of Ladylake—stepped forward hesitantly. Her gaze was imploring, flicking over Sorey, and then back to Mikleo again.

“Mikleo, is that...?”

“Natalie, wait—” Mikleo began, trying to explain. There was already a growing excitement among the villagers however; a collective murmuring followed by a series of gasps when surprise gave way to recognition after they had all caught a good look at Sorey. Before he could speak or react to the villagers’ expectant gazes, there was a flurry of movement as Natalie and a few others rushed towards him, their voices raised in a mixture of disbelief and elation.

“Sorey, is that you? Oh please, say it is so!”

“It really is Sorey. Our Sorey is back, safe and sound!”

“I knew you would return someday, I just knew it!”

Sorey could only manage a confused smile as he returned their fond hugs, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of attention and warmth he was showered with. A large, robust fellow with a smile as golden as the sun reached for him, lifting him up and spinning him around as he whooped and laughed joyously.

“Look at our dear boy! What a fine seraph he’s become—a lightning seraph too, just like Gra—”

“—Shaun, be gentle!” Another seraph, an elderly woman with a wrinkled smile, chided good-naturedly. “You have the poor lad all spooked!”

At her words, Shaun paused his twirling, giving the dizzied Sorey an apologetic smile. He quickly released his hold, thumping the youngest seraph upon the back instead.

“Sorry laddie, didn’t mean to frighten you. But we’re all just so grateful to see you again. It’s been so, so long, after all.”

“We’ve all missed you so much, Sorey,” the elderly woman said. Her eyes were already glistening with tears.

“Ah, I... You must be the Elysians Mikleo has told me about; the ones who had raised us both,” Sorey said, guilt gnawing away at his insides once more. He lowered his head, unable to bear the weight of their gazes, the way their eyes had clouded in confusion at his seemingly detached response to their outpouring of emotion.

He sensed movement from his side, and saw Mikleo stepping before him, as if to shield him from further questioning.

“Sorry, everyone. I know you’re eager to learn more and I promise I will explain everything when I can. Sorey’s doing fine for now, I assure you. But he’s still re-learning many things about himself, so I hope you can give him the space and time to find his bearings.”

A momentary silence hung over them, followed by whispered murmurs as the villagers glanced at one another in uncertainty. Sorey felt the knot in his gut tightening, the uneasiness clenching and unclenching deep within him. But the villagers only nodded, their expressions soft and kind, even though they couldn’t quite hide the flicker of sadness in their eyes.

“We understand,” said the elderly woman, brushing away the tears from her eyes before they could fall. She looked as though she’d wanted to reach for him, thought better of it and kept her hands clasped together at her breast instead. “It’s all right, Sorey. Take all the time you need. Elysia is still very much your home as it is ours.”

“And thank you for your kindness,” Sorey dipped his head, grateful for their patience. He gave them his best smile. “There is something very nostalgic and hauntingly familiar about Elysia. It... It almost feels as though I’m always meant to return here.”

_Even if I don’t seem to remember much of it, or any of the Elysians here._

“Well, a lot has changed over the decades,” Natalie began, one hand clutched at her side as she fiddled with the fabric of her dress. She gazed over at Sofie, who had skipped away with Phoenix now draped over her shoulder, to where three other human children stood behind a seraph elder with a cane, watching the gathering warily from a distance. “Until very recently, you and Mikleo had been the only children growing up in Elysia, and you were the only human among us.”

Sorey tilted his head, thinking back to what Mikleo had shared with him before about their home. “I see. So these children haven’t always lived here?”

“Indeed. They had been abandoned by their families to a life on the streets.” Shaun nodded at the elderly woman. “Medea here found the first one, Sofie, as a lost orphan child while gathering herbs in the forest. And then Shiron and Cynthia had stumbled upon the others during a visit to the Capital several years back.”

“Kyme had been reluctant at first, to the idea of adopting them, but we couldn’t have left them on their own after finding them,” Medea said, lips curved into a fond smile now. “Not when these children could obviously perceive us, and especially not after raising you alongside Mikleo when you were just babes! He would have done the same, after all, and we wished to honour that.”

“I think Sorey might want to rest up a bit,” Mikleo gently interrupted. “We’ve been travelling for a few weeks, and I’m feeling a little worn out myself.”

“Oh, of course, my dears. We’re sorry we keep holding you up!” Medea pulled Mikleo into another warm hug, before she made shooing motions with her hands. “Go on and rest up. We’ll prepare some refreshments that we can all share together later for dinner.”

They excused themselves from the villagers. Mikleo led Sorey up the gentle incline of the path, towards one of the stone houses—its thatched roof was covered with ivy and moss, and there were pots of bright pink flowers placed on both sides of the entrance.

“This was your house once,” Mikleo said softly, pushing the door open. “Rather than letting it fall into a state of disrepair, we thought it was better to use it as a library and study room of sorts. Natalie, Melody and Lawrence have all taken to reading volumes of the Celestial Records here. Most of the classes for the children are conducted here too, since this is where we keep all our books and resources. Even old Taccio comes by to share stories with the children by the fireplace when the nights get too cold—your house has always been more sheltered from the wind drafts than the others.”

Sorey stood at the doorway, glancing over the interior of the house in wordless fascination. He felt a surge of nostalgia, of comfort and longing rising from the depths. He did not remember being in this house before, did not quite recognise the layout of the furniture now, but flashes of detail—the rich, varnished brown of an old, creaking bookcase surrounded by patterned vases and relics; the shelves lining the walls overhead, packed with scrolls and volumes of writing; the rose-and-cream coloured silk sheets tucked neatly over a bed that sat in a cosy alcove—jumped out at him, slivers of fragmented imagery buoyed afloat from the recesses of his mind.

He blinked, trying to clear his mind, awashed with the tingle of memories— _Mikleo seated by the window during twilight, the flickering of light and shadows dancing over his face, his lips curved into a soft smile as he read aloud passages from the Celestial Record —_and sighed softly, drawing his thoughts back to the present.

“It feels very much like a comfortable home,” he said, taking a tentative step into the room for a better look. He ignored the sudden spike of pain in his right eye— _flashes of blue lightning amidst a cruel laughter; a sharp, blazing pain that seared him to the bones, and Gra —_ _!!_

Sorey didn't trust himself to be able to keep the discomfort from showing on his face, so he fixed his gaze away from Mikleo’s and over at one of the many bookcases that lined the wall, doing all he could to quell it, to push the roil of emotions back down.

“Who were they talking about back there?” he asked. “The one who would have ‘done the same’ and taken in the abandoned children? It’s a disconcerting feeling, but there’s something about it that just keeps coming back to me now. Was he someone important in Elysia, someone I once knew?”

When he turned to face Mikleo again, his friend’s expression was heavy with grief, much like the one he had worn when he spoke of Dezel. Mikleo closed his eyes and was silent for a long time. Then, he exhaled deeply, as if steeling himself for something and opened his eyes to meet Sorey’s concerned gaze.

“I’ll show you and maybe it’ll help you remember.”

He followed Mikleo back outside to the path that wove through the village until they reached the stone house that stood at the highest point of the slope. This house was relatively bigger than the others, its roof clear of moss and its potted flowers blooming in hues of brilliant blue by the entrance.

“This is where I live now, whenever I’m back in Elysia after an expedition,” Mikleo explained as they entered the house. “But it wasn’t always my house – this was where the lightning seraph, Zenrus, used to live too. He was the seraph elder the villagers spoke of earlier and the one who had kept Elysia protected and safe within his domain. He was also the one who had taken us in and raised us as his own along with the others.” Mikleo offered Sorey a gentle smile, even though his eyes were filled with a deep sadness. “He was our family... our Gramps.”

“Gramps,” Sorey echoed, before he winced, feeling yet another throb in his right eye, and a growing wave of nausea sweeping over him.

When he gazed upon the room once more, the images began to unfold in a flood, and he knew these weren’t merely the dreams that had haunted him—they were slivers, shards of memories coalescing, converging together, reaching out from deep within him. Memories of Artorius’ Throne, of a fearsome battle, of Heldalf and of Gramps, _Gramps, we have to save him —_

_— please, there must be... there must be another way! _

The rush of images were biting and raw, and, and, _and..._

_ —I won’t forget this pain! _

Stricken by the overwhelming surge of emotions, by the sudden clarity of the images and what they finally meant—he could only meet Mikleo’s anxious gaze with horror, his vision now swimming with memories and tears.

“Gramps,” he breathed again, the excruciating ache blooming ever more within his chest. “We... I... no, _no..._ _Gramps_ _–_ ”

“Sorey, wait—”

His eyes burning, Sorey turned and fled from the room.

***  
  
**

He ran blindly, past the bewildered stares and concerned voices of the Elysians, past the towering painted archways and over the stretch of grass. He ran, veering left from the path, brushing past the sparse shrubbery and towards the grove of trees shrouded in mist. Stumbling, struggling through the shifting kaleidoscopic meld of memory and colour, through a section of ruins and down a flight of stone steps until finally, _finally —_he reached the edge of a cliff face overlooking the layer of clouds. Here, alone as he looked out at the unending skies, at the swirling wisp of clouds, he collapsed into himself.

***  
  
**

When Mikleo found him, he was still seated upon the soft grass beside a crumbling stone formation, curled into himself with both knees drawn up to his chest, his face buried into the folds of his cloak.

He could sense Mikleo’s hesitation, the momentary silence as his friend wrestled with a decision, before he carefully approached Sorey’s side. Mikleo said nothing as he eased himself onto the grass beside him, his movements tentative and slow, as if seeking an unsaid permission from Sorey to be allowed into this private space of mourning and sorrow.

And for that, Sorey was grateful—he was still folded into himself, but slowly and ever-so-slightly, as the ebb and flow of memories gradually subsided, he felt the tension dissipating from his shoulders. Only a heart-rending ache remained, each beat within his chest weighted with the muted shadow of grief.

“I was afraid of the memories,” he said softly after a long silence, his face still tucked away from view as he leaned against Mikleo’s shoulder. “Of remembering, of knowing the truth and what it meant.”

“Some memories do hurt a lot,” Mikleo said, reaching for Sorey’s hand. He laced their fingers together, squeezing them gently in reassurance. “But as much as I wish otherwise, I suppose it wouldn’t be fair if we only kept the good ones.”

“I wish I had never forgotten them, not even the ones that hurt.” Sorey finally lifted his head, brushing the stray tears from his face with his free hand. He smiled sadly at Mikleo, his eyes ringed red and damp. “How could I have ever forgotten about Gramps? I’d promised that I never would, that I would always carry this pain in my heart, no matter what.”

“And you _did —_you’ve been recalling the feelings, the emotions, because your heart still remembers, even if the memories didn’t resurface till later.”

“It’s just... I guess what I’ve been afraid of most was _not_ being able to remember. I was afraid the dreams would never amount to anything I could understand, no matter how hard I searched or tried to remember. So, I did the only thing I knew —I smiled, and pushed the fear aside.” Sorey sighed, eyes downcast, his voice growing softer. “I thought if I never gave voice to these fears, I could work my way through the uncertainty until I grew used to it. But... guess I’m not so sure anymore.”

He felt Mikleo tensing up beside him then, sensed his friend’s disquiet, the uneasy shift of moods in the atmosphere between them.

“So, all this time, you’ve been forcing yourself to the point of almost living a pretense?” His features were still calm, impassive, but Sorey could detect a slight edge to Mikleo’s tone now. “But no one ever said you had to force yourself into something you didn’t want. None of us would have asked that of you, if we knew it would only bring you such misery.”

“What else am I supposed to do in those situations? Everyone looked happy and relieved to have ‘Sorey’ back again, to have the person who had been a very important and dear friend by their side once more.”

Mikleo shook his head, brows furrowed now and Sorey knew he was upset, angered even, perhaps— _disappointed, as you knew he’d be —_but doing his best not to show it. “So you would rather spend the rest of your days pretending to live a life you don’t wish for, to keep everyone but yourself happy?”

“I wasn’t pretending; I just didn’t want to disappoint them. I don’t want to disappoint _you._ Because, what if I _never_ remember everything?” Sorey said, hurt and distress painted over his features now. “What if I only ever recall bits and pieces, like facts from a book? What if I only remember these feelings, but can never truly understand or know where they come from, whom they are for? Would I still be the Sorey you all remember and care so much for? I don't know!”

“Why would we not care?” Mikleo asked, incredulous.“We're your _friends_ , we’ve always cared for you—we fought alongside you all those years ago. And we care about the you _now_. I’ve waited _centuries_ to see you again, to explore the world with you. So even if you didn’t remember anything about the past, I would still care and look out for you just as much, because you’re right here beside me again!”

“Even if it meant I might never remember anyone in Elysia?” Sorey asked sadly. “Or never remembering some of the things we've done together growing up, or during my time as a Shepherd? Even then?”

Mikleo closed his eyes as he angled his body away from Sorey, his features pinched with emotion. “If it means you would be happier this way... then yes. And please, don't force yourself to care for me, for my sake alone. I don't need that kind of pity, and I would _never_ ask anyone —not even you, Sorey—to do so out of a misplaced sense of obligation–”

“But I’ve never pretended to care or love you!” Sorey blurted, the words slipping from him like pebbles of truth.

At the sudden declaration, Mikleo could only gape wordlessly in shock at him, violet eyes searching, discerning.

An uncomfortable tense silence hovered between them as they held each other’s gazes – Sorey making no pretense at hiding his anguish, even as his features held the same tender smile; Mikleo still folded behind his impassive mask, even as his eyes betrayed the swirl of emotions within. After a moment, Sorey finally lowered his gaze, and said, almost in a whisper, “ _Wilkiphis Luzrev_.”

Mikleo blinked, his eyes widening by a fraction. His expression softened, however, when he realised what it meant; he understood then that Sorey had offered his True Name, as a display of vulnerability and heartfelt sincerity, of his trust in the one friend who had waited and believed in him from the very beginning.

“ _One of Unwavering Heart —_my True Name, given as a gift and blessing from Maotelus,” Sorey said softly, eyes still trained upon the grass before him. He brushed a hand over the cloak that had once been the Shepherd’s mantle, patting his chest tentatively. “Maotelus said I may have changed, and that my memories of the past may never fully return, but at heart, I will always be Sorey. That I can always choose to either be the old Sorey or a completely new Sorey, if that is what I desire. And that whatever happens, I should listen to my heart.”

“What does your heart tell you now?” Mikleo asked, gazing at him with such concern and gentleness that Sorey felt his chest would burst from aching.

“I don’t know for certain yet, but I _do_ love you; I think I always have, even when I was still human. And I do care for Lailah, Edna and Zaveid almost as much right now – I want to believe that I have loved every friend that I've met, both in my old life and this new one that I'm rediscovering.”

He turned his gaze to Mikleo once again, helpless and pleading. "So... is it all right for me to listen to my heart, to learn to love and remember you, and everyone else all over again? For me to keep trying to be both the old Sorey _and_ a new Sorey? To keep trying to be your Sorey?"

“Of _course_ it is, silly. As long as this is what you truly wish for yourself in this life, then you’ve found your answer.” Mikleo drew him close to rest his forehead against Sorey’s, both hands raised to cup his face now. “And you _are_ my Sorey – you always will be to me, regardless. This much I know, because _I_ have always loved you.”

Sorey couldn’t help but laugh softly. He curled his arms around Mikleo’s torso, leaning forward to bury his face into his friend’s warm embrace as a thought, a sliver of a memory came to him then.

“ _I’ll tell you if I remember.”_

_“Next time?”_

_“Next time.”_  
  
“Was that what you’ve been wanting to say to me, all those centuries ago?” he asked, feeling the tingle of familiarity. He felt the huff that rumbled through Mikleo’s lithe frame, knew that he didn’t even need see the water seraph’s expression to guess that he was already grinning coyly.

“Was it? It must have slipped my mind. It’s been a long time, after all.”

Sorey let out an amused snort. “How convenient.”

“Then let me say it once again for posterity,” Mikleo chuckled as he pulled away, pushing Sorey gently back down onto the grass and silencing him with a soft kiss.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I drowned myself in Gramps+Elysia feels writing this. Please drown in them with me. 
> 
> \- A bit of elaboration on how I'd decided on Sorey's True Name:  
> I didn't want to give Sorey a name like "dreamer" or "hope", even though those were popular options among fans. Not because he didn't embody those traits – he did, and very much so – but it's more because he's not the only dreamer around or the only person who carried hope within him (if that makes sense?). It's true that thematically, he represented hopes and dreams in the game in his role as a Shepherd leading the people and being a bridge between humans and seraphim. But post-epilogue he wouldn't be the Shepherd Sorey anymore. He would just be "Sorey" and a wandering seraph. Which is why I thought "heart" suited him best (thematically, Sorey also epitomizes "passion" and is the heart of Zestiria). Even if he has had moments of serious doubts and makes mistakes, the one thing that makes Sorey _Sorey_ is staying true to himself – to his being, his essence, his _heart_. He has always been a resolute and determined person; he picks himself back up no matter how many times he fails and falters, and he’s never one to give up easily – that's the strength of his character. 
> 
> That's why I settled on Maotelus naming him “One of Unwavering Heart” (or literally “Resolute-Heart One” in the Ancient Tongue). Maotelus also intentionally didn't include "Sorey" as part of his True Name because as a reborn seraph, he would not be 100% the old Sorey either, even if he retained some of his human memories. By omitting "Sorey" from his True Name (which represents a seraph's core/essence), Maotelus thought perhaps seraph!Sorey would be less pressured to bear the weight of an old life from centuries ago, and is free instead to choose whoever he wished to be in this new life.
> 
> -There are a few tumblr posts on the Modern Glenwood/Ancient Tongue language I used as reference to come up with Sorey's True Name. But since A.T. charts have missing ciphers (plus most of the translated names in A.T. don't make sense anyway), I had to take some creative liberties too. TL;DR it's a nerdy explanation, but If you're interested to know more, you're still welcome to ask.
> 
> Edit: An anon asked how I came up with Sorey's True Name (or how to create them in general), so I'm sharing [the post](http://katjedi.tumblr.com/post/155556971426/hi-thanks-for-sharing-your-fanfic-it-was-very) here too for reference.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music inspiration for this scene: [to the neverending lands](https://youtu.be/JqnLAhlW1c8)  
> 

* * *

 

**~.*.~**

 

**epilogue.**

 

And so, he stayed in Elysia, taking up residence with Mikleo in Zenrus’ old home. He could have moved back into his old house; the Elysians—his _family_ —would have gladly reshuffled some things around and made room for him, he knew. But Sorey had declined their offer, had very much preferred that they continued using it as their library and study, as their favourite place of gathering when sharing stories by the fireplace.

Living alongside remnants of a youth he only distantly remembered—seventeen human years, burning bright through the march of time in a flicker of orange flame—he found the memories came easier. It came easier when he didn’t delve in too often, too deep when searching for the bits and pieces, when he allowed them to resurface on their own, tiny bubbles of imagery rising steadily through the void to break the surf. Some memories he could never seem to fully recall, however hard he tried. It saddened him, at first, and it always came with a sense of loss he knew he would never be able to fully articulate. But Sorey being Sorey—as Mikleo, and then Natalie, Medea and Ed, were wont to affectionately remind him—he did not stay discouraged for long. He chose instead to honour the ghosts, the whispers of these pasts by re-learning them, committing the knowledge to heart.

Ultimately, he spent two whole happy years in Elysia, settling into the daily bustle of idyllic village life while exploring the network of ruins that ran along the ridge of Mt. Mabinogio and its underground labyrinths. And even then, it hadn’t been enough—unable to resist the desire, the wanderlust any longer, Sorey eventually decided to venture out once more into the world, together with Mikleo by his side as always.

Mikleo was slow to rise in the mornings, but Sorey had always been a child of the sun and boundless skies, of gentle rumbles amidst the gathering of clouds, of impassioned wanderlust through unending green fields and crumbling monuments steeped in legend and mystery. He rose with the sun, and was now picking his way through dappled light and mist to the wooded area south of the village. It was the morning he and Mikleo would leave Elysia to visit their old friends in Ladylake and Rayfalke before heading for an expedition to the north. Mikleo had spoken of the wonders of fire-spewing mountains and a land covered completely in ice, and Sorey had been eager to see the sights with his own eyes.

Before they set out on their journey, he’d wanted to check on the elysalark fledgelings Sofie had found chirping helplessly on the ground two days before. She had insisted on bringing them home and nursing them, but Sorey had advised her against it.  

“They’ll never learn to fly or fend for themselves otherwise,” he’d told her gently, as they returned the baby birds back into their nest. “Once they are safely back in their nest, their parents will return and continue to raise them.”

So here he was, halfway up the massive tree, to check on the nest and the fledgelings. Balanced precariously on a sturdy bough, he peered through the leaves at the nest snuggled between the branches. The fledglings twitched and chirped when they sensed his presence, their beady eyes still half-closed from sleep.

“Hello,” Sorey greeted softly, lips quirked into a smile. “Mikleo and I are going off on a journey, so I thought I’d come to say good-bye. I’m not sure when we’ll be back home again, but you’ll probably make it out of the nest way before we return. Be safe, little friends; may the wind under your wings keep you aloft and bring you to where luck dances.”

“Sorey?”

He heard Mikleo’s voice wafting up between the thick branches, followed by a rustling of leaves. Soon enough, the water seraph appeared in view and hauled himself up the bough to sit beside him.

“Are the baby elysalarks doing all right?” Mikleo asked as he peered past Sorey’s shoulder.

“As fine as ever. In fact, I think they might be able to leave the nest before the next full moon.”

They watched the fledglings for a while longer, before they bid a final farewell and carefully made their way down the tree. They were past the mid-section of the trunk when the branch Mikleo was holding onto creak noisily, snapping in half. Losing his grip, he slipped down the trunk, and might have had hit the ground in a painful landing if Sorey had not reached out in time, one arm curled around Mikleo’s torso as he grasped securely onto a branch with the other.

“Thanks,” Mikleo gasped, catching his breath. Sorey grinned as an idea came to him then, green eyes glimmering with mischief. Leaning close, he nuzzled the space between the base of Mikleo’s neck and his collarbone where he knew his friend was most sensitive, and was rewarded with another gasp of surprise.

“ _Sorey,_ ” Mikleo hissed, not quite able to hold back a chuckle, his cheeks dusted pink. Sorey only grinned wider, and would have continued nuzzling, but the branch he'd held onto was creaking, strained from their combined weight. There was sharp snapping sound and the two were sent tumbling through the leaves, before landing unceremoniously on the grass in a tangle of limbs.

“That was definitely all _your_ fault,” Mikleo wheezed at length, propping himself up against his elbows as he tried to shift from under Sorey’s dead weight. Sorey smiled a silly sort of smile, offering a sheepish apology before he pulled away. Mikleo’s mild discomfort at having fallen out of a tree didn’t last however. The water seraph took one glance at him and burst out laughing, much to Sorey’s confusion.

“Feathers are a much better look for you,” Mikleo said, eyes crinkling with mirth as he reached forward to pluck out a number of stray leaves and twigs stuck in Sorey’s hair. Sorey ran his fingers through his shock of hair, brushing out the leaves. He’d had the tendency to have things caught in long strands of loose hair, and because of that, he’d eventually cut his hair and kept it short, so that it now looked similar to the mussed-up style he’d worn as a human youth.

As he carded his fingers through the gold-tipped strands, Sorey brushed against his feathered ear cuffs. The feathered ornaments were mismatched now, due to an incident in a labyrinth of the Mabinogio ruins many months ago (the same incident, in fact, that had gotten him to trim off his long locks)—one ornament had fallen off, much to his dismay. But Mikleo had been good enough to help him replace it with the spare feathers from the leather band he’d previously used to tie his long hair. So now he wore mismatched feathered ear cuffs—one yellow and one a bright orange.

“I wish _you_ had kept your hair long, though. It was a really nice length,” Sorey mused, the shine and gloss of Mikleo’s hair catching his eye. He thought appreciatively of the silky, lustrous texture of silver-white strands between his palms.

Mikleo fingered a loose strand in his hand, humming softly. He had also trimmed his hair at about the same time as Sorey did, but had decided he liked wearing it longer, leaving the radiant turquoise tips to hang loose around his shoulders.

“It was about time for a trim anyway,” he said simply. “Besides, I don’t want to end up looking unkempt like wandering riff-raff, much like a certain someone we both know.”

Sorey only chuckled in agreement, before another idea struck him. “Here,” he said, pulling Mikleo close so he could run his fingers through his friend’s hair. He gathered a small bunch to one side, and began braiding the locks together, securing it with the leather band (that he’d always worn around his left wrist) with the one remaining feather. Once he was done, Sorey drew back to admire his work, beaming brightly at Mikleo.

“We match now!” he said, touching the orange feather in Mikleo’s braid.

“That we do,” Mikleo nodded, grinning lightly. He raised a hand, affectionately tapping the tip of Sorey’s nose with a gentle flick of his fingers. “Come on. Let’s go say good-bye to everyone before we set out.”

They made their way back, to where the Elysians were standing clustered together by the small pool at the centre of the village. Medea and Melody were already reaching for their hands and embracing them as they bade them a tearful good-bye; Lawrence, Shaun and even Kyme were chortling raucously, patting and waving them off to their exploration with many blessings and warm wishes.

Sorey crouched low to where the human children—Sofie, Wiggins, Jon and Shino—stood huddled together, their expressions forlorn. Sofie threw her small arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

“You’ll definitely come back again, won’t you?” Wiggins asked sadly as he gazed at Mikleo, who had also knelt to embrace the children.

“Of course we will,” Mikleo said with his best smile. “I haven't failed to return to Elysia after my previous expeditions, have I? And I’ll make sure Sorey doesn’t get lost out there by himself in the big world either.”

The children laughed, heartened by his promise and hugged them both again.

Sorey turned then towards Phoenix, who had balanced himself on a nearby boulder and who had been observing them silently in that time. The normin looked up at him, tiny arms folded importantly over his chest.

“I don’t usually dole out praises, but you’ve grown into a fine young seraph, little one,” Phoenix said with a sagely nod of his head. “Most of it is thanks to me, of course. And while I will soon begin preparations with my normin brethren for the next Uprising, I am not so unkind as to forget our promise. I will do my part to protect this domain in your and little Meebo’s stead, so fret not—h-hey, wait, what are you doing?!”

Sorey grinned, lifting the normin up so he could embrace him. “Thank you, Phoenix. For always watching over me and for your guidance. I’m immensely grateful to have you with me. Be well and I promise, I'll return to see you again too.”

Phoenix blinked, before he turned his face haughtily away. He made a grumbling noise in his throat, rubbing tiny paws over his eyes now as he muttered, “Baby seraphs and their penchant for dewy-eyed sentiments.”

As the two young seraphim set out, passing through the painted archways that would lead them out into the world again, Sorey paused, glancing back at his family one last time. The Elysians waved, bidding him one final farewell and he smiled, the slow electric tingle of realisation in every fibre of his being filling his chest with warmth.

_This is my answer,_ he thought simply, and he knew it to be true.

Elysia would always be his first home, a place he would return to eventually to settle, to eternal rest someday. But Mikleo, the ruins, the boundlessness of Glenwood and the world beyond them, his seraphim and human friends – they were all a part of him. And he would always carry them—each memory a beat of pulsing stardust—within his heart wherever he went, to whatever new adventure and discovery that awaited him as they went forth on their journey.

Sorey would move forward, with Mikleo always close beside him and—

_We’ll go together, side by side, to whatever comes our way._

—together, their laughter dancing lightly in the wind, they continued onwards, chasing dreams.

 

**.**

**  
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**  
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**_ —End—  
_**

 

**~.*.~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who had left a kudos/comment for this fic! It's been a whirl of post-canon feels, and I'm happy to have been able to share them with you. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've loved writing it. Thanks also to my skype and zesty twitter friends who offered all the encouragement and were patient enough to let me to keysmash tl;dr emotions+shitposting memes into their chatbox LOL - this fic is written with much love for you all ❤ ❤
> 
> Happy holidays and here's to a better, kinder 2017 that awaits us!


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